The Bunny Who Knew Too Much
by The Crim
Summary: Nick knows he's an innocent fox, but after coming to in a hospital, he's told he killed Judy in a Night Howler-induced frenzy. As he mourns the loss of his partner and sets out to clear his name, he discovers a bunny who looks and smells a little too much like Judy. She may be in the middle of her own investigation…. A tribute to Hitchcock and noir thrillers.
1. Chapter 1

The blueberry splats against Nick's neck, and the impact sends him falling back onto the floor of the museum exhibit. It's okay, he's got this. Just howl in pain, flail around for a while, threaten Judy like he's come down with a bad case of rabies, and they'll get out of this somehow. One step at a time. He closes his eyes and bares his teeth, feeling Judy's gentle paw pressing against his back. "Nick, try to fight it!" she says, and the panic in her voice sounds real. Not bad for an amateur.

But the welt the blueberry created is still throbbing. His vision begins to blur and his limbs tense up. Blueberries aren't supposed to do _this_. Could he have developed an allergy since this morning?

His nerves burst into flames and Nick blacks out.

* * *

The light is painful. Ugh, he shouldn't keep ordering that same tequila. In fact, calling it "tequila" is too kind. It's probably pure rubbing alcohol with a bit of agave extract. Nick should know— he once sold just that to a family of cacomistles for their daughter's quinceañera. He blinks and his eyelids refuse to move again. What happened last night, anyway?

After a brave struggle, Nick gets his eyes open halfway. The light is coming from a window in a hospital room. Hospital? Man, that was _really_ bad tequila. He rolls his head to the side and checks if his paws are handcuffed to the bed: Nope. Well, can't be too bad.

A koala nurse is reading his vital signs, and she pages the doctor over the intercom: "He's awake." Nick tries to sit up in bed but only sinks further into the pillow.

"Hey sweets." His hangover voice is groggier than usual. "If you don't mind me asking, could you fetch me a hair of the wolf? I've got a fifty in my wallet that I assure you was not printed in a dark, moldy basement."

A snow leopard doctor knocks on the door frame and drags a chair next to Nick. "Good afternoon, Mr. Wilde," she says in a hushed voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I won the freaking lottery, doc."

"Good, that's good. Do you remember anything from the last time you were conscious?"

"Not a thing. Which means it was probably the best day of my life." Nick tries to push himself up to face the doctor. He collapses back.

"Well, Mr. Wilde, you've been undergoing treatment for Night Howler poisoning for the past seven weeks."

Nick's ears perk up and his eyes bulge. "Night Howl… I wouldn't touch that stuff if you paid me."

"Do you remember anything from when you went savage?"

"Look, Dr. Catnip, I don't know where you're getting this 'savage' business. I stay away from the hard stuff. Tequila's about as much as I'll indulge."

"Do you remember a former police officer named Judy Hopps?"

"Former?" Nick succeeds at sitting up. Despite his splitting headache, he's now fully awake. "I risked my tail again and again to make sure she kept her badge. Don't tell me they fired her!"

The doctor swallows and scratches herself under her chin. "Well, uh, that's not what I meant. She's uh..."

It comes back: The museum. Mayor Bellwether. The exhibit. The blueberry. The... oh God. Where is she? Judy would be at his side when he woke up, wouldn't she?

Nick tries to swing his legs out of bed, but they're too weak to kick away the hospital blanket. "She's what?"

The doctor draws a deep breath and casts her eyes to the floor. "I don't want to be the one to have to tell you this."

"Oh no. No." The hospital room is closing in on itself. What happened after the blueberry hit? There must be a way to bridge the gap in his memory, but there's only darkness. Just nothing...

"She can't be _dead_." His limbs are coming back to life, and he kicks off the hospital sheets. "There were blueberries in that gun. We put them there while Bellwether and her rams were searching the museum. That was our plan! Nobody got hit with a Night Howler bullet!"

"Unfortunately..."

"Don't say that word. I do _not_ like that word."

"...the police brought you here as part of a murder investigation. There was also a rabbit who arrived DOA…"

Nick springs from the bed, sheets gathering around his ankles, and the doctor scrambles out of his way. "Nurse!" yells the doctor. "Security!"

Pure panic sends Nick rushing toward the snow leopard. He grabs the fur of her neck and tries to lower her head to his. "It's not true! She wasn't hurt!"

"I need a sedative, stat!"

"Where is she! Judy! Carrots!"

A needle jabs Nick's forelimb. He yelps. The thick hooves of a rhino officer pry Nick off the doctor and handcuff him to the bed. "Carrots…" His racing heart slows and he falls into a long, dull sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

For some hideous reason, the Zootopia coroner holds Judy's inquest at the Natural History Museum, still under renovation. Chief Bogo tells Nick not to sweat it— they most likely chose the location to make a good backdrop for the TV coverage.

"Don't let the cameras worry you," says Bogo. "They want to see you cry, they want to see you get angry. Play it cool and you'll make her proud."

Nick has hired a lawyer for the inquest, even though he doesn't have to testify. "Most mammals don't understand the point of the jury at these sorts of things," says Dan Lupino, a grizzled timber wolf approaching seventy. "They're not here to find you guilty. They're deciding whether the DA should pursue criminal charges. In your case, your defense is rock solid— they found traces of Night Howler bullets on your clothes. After the hospitals started running toxicology tests, they traced the bullets to Bellwether. Her thugs confessed to shooting you and about thirty other predators. You've got no culpability."

At 3pm, the jury announces that they've reached their verdict. Nick wears a rented suit with his favorite purple striped tie. He maintains a totally blank face, casting his eyes far away from the cameras. As the jury enters the lobby of the museum and sits on the folding chairs, Lupino grabs his paw and holds it tight.

"Are you prepared to submit your verdict?" The hyena coroner pushes her glasses up and stares at Nick. Half the cameras in the room swing toward the foreman, and the other half swing toward Nick. He looks off into space.

"Yes." The beaver foreman unfolds a piece of paper. "We find that Judith Hopps died as the result of blunt force trauma caused by fox teeth. We find that Nicholas Piberius Wilde was responsible…"

Dozens of flashbulbs erupt in Nick's face. It takes all his strength to keep staring into space, to keep from shoving the photographers over and smashing their cameras. Lupino squeezes his paw tighter.

"...while under the influence of a serum made from Night Howler pedals." The beaver sits.

"Thank you. Your verdict will be so recorded." The coroner shuffles her papers for what feels like ages, and then she speaks into the mic at the dais. "Based on the evidence presented and the conclusions of the jury, our office does not recommend charges against Mr. Wilde, as he did not expose himself to Night Howler serum out of his own free will. However…"

Every journalist in the room leans forward (except for the reporter from the Daily Sloth Branch, who is still typing out the jury's verdict on her phone).

"...given the toxic nature of the substance Mr. Wilde and Ms. Hopps were transporting to the police, our office hopes that Mr. Wilde would have taken better precautions. In his written statement, he claims that he and Ms. Hopps attempted to switch the Night Howler bullets in Ms. Bellwether's firearm with blueberries. A worthy attempt at defusing a dangerous situation, or a good story, at least. But given Mr. Wilde's lengthy criminal history, we have serious doubts that his word can be trusted. We should not rule out further charges."

Lupino stands: "This speculation is immaterial. I ask the office that it be removed from the record."

The room buzzes. Nick closes his eyes and grits his teeth.

"Our office will honor Mr. Lupino's request." The coroner drinks from a water bottle. "And we plan to file our full report within a week. Adjourned."

The journalists pivot from the coroner to Nick. "My client does not wish to make a statement," says Lupino. He and Bogo shield Nick as they hurry him out of the lobby, pushing open the doors of the main entrance only to discover another mob of journalists waiting for them on the steps. Nick pulls his jacket over his head and hides his face.

"Nick! Nick!," come a thousand voices. "What was going through your head when you killed her? How long did she take to die? What's your favorite Gazelle album?"

A ZuberXL waits at the street, its engine running. "We will take no questions!" shouts Lupino as Bogo tosses Nick into the back seat. The wolf and Cape buffalo squeeze in next to him and the black sedan speeds off.

"Oohf, that was rough," pants Lupino. "But you handled it like a champ. They never got to you. That's the only to get through it."

Nick takes off his jacket, loosens his tie, and stares at the strange moving objects passing outside the window, letting his eyes unfocus.

"Nick," Chief Bogo appears to be fighting back tears. "We all miss her. You're not going through this alone."

That's not true. Bogo wasn't called untrustworthy in front of the entire Zootopian media. Bogo didn't lose his partner, his friend, his…

Lupino has the right idea. Nick won't let any of this get to him. That strategy has worked up until now and it's going to keep working.

* * *

Nick's memories grow hazy after the Zuber ride. He isn't sure where he goes, who he meets, or where he sleeps. Nothing comes into focus until he finds himself curled up in a fetal position in the passenger seat of Finnick's van.

"'Bout time you showed up!" Finnick blows cigarette smoke in his face. "Why've you been hiding from me? I can't run this thing by myself!"

Nick sits up and stretches. "You know, I haven't really thought about pawpsicles lately."

"That's right. You're too busy going off getting wasted."

"And you would know this because?"

Finnick puts out his cigarette in the ashtray and tosses it out the window. "Because I know _you_. Anytime it gets too real, you scurry away like a little mouse. Then you come back all worn out and broke and I gotta drive you down to the VD clinic. I worry 'bout you."

Nick waves him away. "I've run my life pretty well for the past three decades. Well, I've had a few stints in jail here and there, but hasn't everyone?"

"Your girl's dead, Nick. I know it's tough! Stay with me and take it easy for a while. I'll watch you like my little brother."

Nick laughs at the thought of Finnick as his older brother. "That's mighty generous of you, Finn. But honestly, my life couldn't be better." He takes a sip from his flask. "The sun is out, the air is warm, and except for the aforementioned maladies I've always maintained good health."

"You been thinking 'bout her much?"

"Of course not. Who are you talking about?"

"Juddy Hopps. The bunny who hustled you."

His head becomes very heavy for some reason, and he rests it on the dashboard. "I got some bad news, Finn. She's gone."

"I know. I just told you!"

Nick sighs. "She was a good cop. She made _me_ want to be a good cop. Who can believe it? _I_ don't believe it. Do you?"

"That's your problem right there, Nick. You get drunk and do your little word tricks and you just can't deal. She's dead. Cry about her. Miss her. And then we'll get us some jumbo pops."

"There's a teensy bit more to it than that." Nick takes another sip and sprawls out in the seat. "Last time I checked, everyone thinks I murdered her."

"Well you did, Nick! The Night Howlers made you do it but you still did!"

Nick pins Finnick to the seat with his paw. "I did _not_ kill her. And I can prove it."

"How you gonna do that?"

"I was there! I took the bullet out, gave it to Judy, and she put in three blueberries. This fox is innocent, my friend. This fox is not a savage beast roaming the urban jungles in search of prey. This fox was set up!"

"You can't prove that. They think you're lying."

"Sorry, not lying. Why would Judy leave a bullet in the magazine? She didn't want Bellwether to get ahold of those. She didn't want to die. Somebody murdered her and pinned it on me. It's a case of the old _post hoc ergo propter hoc._ How do you like them word tricks?"

"Then why'd you black out?"

"Maybe blueberries aren't to my taste." He presses his paws together. "Judy doesn't make mistakes like that, Finn. She's too good."

"Was."

Nick scowls. "Aren't you a mother's little angel."

Finnick spits out the window. "I'm your friend whether you like it or not! And you better be grateful you didn't get any time inside!"

"You know," Nick leans his elbow on the door, "that's possibly the most cynical thing I've heard all day. That I should be grateful I didn't get time for losing someone who truly trusted me. Hoo boy."

He jumps out of the van.

"Just keeping it real, Nick!"

"Real? Alright, let's talk about reality. Reality is that one day you're gonna see ''Nick Wilde Was Framed' on every newspaper and magazine in Zootopia. Reality is that I'm _not_ a drunk and I can more than manage the steady flow of intoxicating substances into my body. Reality is that I'm a grifter, a hustler, a confox, a cheat at cards, and a sore loser. But I am _never_ a wishful thinker. Good day, Finnick."

He pushes the door shut with a two-fingered touch and strolls down the sidewalk with a grin. But once Finnick's van is out of sight, the smile droops and Nick's tail drags on the concrete.

There has to be some evidence he can dig up that proves he didn't do it. They _say_ the bite marks on her carcass matched his dental records, but they also say the trauma left her unrecognizable. It could have been any passing fox. Maybe blueberry allergies that induce blackouts are a real thing. Maybe...

A voice comes from a rarely explored corner of Nick's mind: _Even if you gather all the right evidence, and even if you prove you didn't kill her, none of that can bring her back._

He stops on the sidewalk and a gnu almost trips over his tail. Nick wants to say something snarky to himself, something like "Did you remember your happy pills this morning?" but he can't.

The voice is right. Finnick is right. It's time to be real— Judy is gone for good.

"What can I do about it?" Nick says out loud to no one in particular. _Nothing,_ is his answer. _Just go on living without her. Today, tomorrow, and the day after that._

It feels like he's been punched in the stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

Nick spends several days telling anyone who might be concerned that he's retired.

"It's been a good run. I don't have many complaints. What I need right now is to settle into the simple life, taking it slow and easy for the few years I have left."

"Really?" says Rich, a possum who gathers produce that falls off trucks and resells it as certified non-GMO organic at the NoSavSqua Farmer's Market. He is arranging his booth a little after dawn, a few hours before opening. "I thought you were like thirty-something?"

"Life is short. One day we're here, the next day we're six feet under. By the way, I want you to have these." He hands him a pair of dice.

"Oh…" Rich hands them back as if they were scalding hot. He puts his pink fingers to his mouth. "Those are the loaded ones from when we cleaned out Nathan! They're legendary! I can't take them, I'll only lose 'em!"

"No, please, do. My days of shooting craps are over." Nick leans on the wooden shipping crates. "What's the point of hanging on when life always bets on Don't Pass? It's better luck to get out of the game and give your chips to someone who could use them."

"Nick," whispers Rich. "You're not thinking of… cashing those chips in?"

"You mean suicide? Well come right out and say it!" Nick smirks. "No. Suicide is for wimps. Tough mammals hang on year after year in a downward spiral of loathing and self-pity."

Rich spins a cantaloupe around so its large bruise is hidden. "I really think you should talk to a shrink. I've never seen you act like this."

"Neither have I, Richie Rich. Let's just say I've reached enlightenment." He picks up a blueberry and crushes it. "Everything in this universe has a beginning— and an end. Even the oldest established permanent floating crap game in Zootopia has to shut down eventually."

He walks off, dropping the dice… but he looks over his shoulder to see the outcome of the roll. "Hey, still works!"

Rich wipes his fingers on his apron. "This is because of that cop, isn't it?"

Nick shrugs and walks on.

"It wasn't your fault, Nick!"

Of course. That's what everyone says. The doctor said it as soon as the sedatives wore off. Lupino said it, Bogo said it, the journalists who cornered him on the street said it, Finnick said it in his usual inarticulate way, and now every single mammal on this farewell tour has said it. It must originate from some ancient etiquette guide. Chapter 417: "What To Say When Someone You Know Murders Their Best Friend While Under The Influence". Maybe there's even a subchapter for when said acquaintance is intoxicated against their will, or when they're accused of a murder they didn't actually commit.

Nick doesn't bother with a response anymore. What can he say? "Golly gee, you're right! It _wasn't_ my fault! I _never_ considered that until you said it! Thanks! Now I'll run off and regain the passion in my life by knotting macrame sweaters!"

It's not that he couldn't become passionate if he wanted. It's that passion itself doesn't have a point. But since he can't stop time, Nick lets the hours tick by, and when he struggles to drift off to sleep, he envisions himself drinking every bottle in his liquor cabinet at once, slowing his breaths and heart rate until he blacks out for good.

* * *

Nick typically sleeps from about eight in the morning until four in the afternoon. First comes his breakfast beers and an hour in front of the TV. He watches the honey badger judge yell at her small claims court because the claimants' problems make for a good distraction— stupid boyfriends and girlfriends, stupider loans and landlords. After his morning shots loosen him up, he slips out into the twilight to start his rounds.

He goes to the same places in the same order: the popsicle shop where he first met her (it's closed at that hour), the spot in Savanna Central where she confronted him, the sidewalk that still bears her pawprints. Then he's off to the Mystic Springs Oasis, the DMV, the limo lot in Tundratown, the gates of Mr. Big's house, the corner of Tujunga and Vine.

Nick loiters in the shadows of the intersection, sipping from his flask until the sun prepares to rise, and then he takes the downtown-bound SkyTram, crossing his forelimbs on the railing and looking down over the early rush hour traffic. Always on the left side. Always leaving a space on the right.

He would have to drain his flask ten times over to see City Hall or the ZPD Headquarters again, and so he takes the subway from the SkyTram terminal back to his apartment on the southwest edge of downtown. There he eases himself down with a few more beers until he's ready for bed.

The rounds are useless, of course. Returning to the places they shared together can't bring her back. But the sheer repetition day after day brings back the sound of her voice saying "Nick, you are so much more than that," him pulling away from her touch...

My God. He's become an old wino obsessed with regaining the past. He's become a wishful thinker.

Nick doesn't often spot gray female bunnies on the street, since he avoids crowds and prey-exclusive neighborhoods. But when he does... Could it be? Is it? There's a tiny, minuscule chance. His ears perk up and he sniffs the air to catch her scent, but it's never Judy.

He's an idiot. Dead is dead. She was so badly mauled that they could only identify her from Bellwether's testimony, who claimed she was checking on the progress of renovations when she discovered the attack in progress. Judy couldn't have survived.

But if she only _appeared_ to die...

That's beyond wishful thinking. That's insanity.

* * *

One morning Nick wakes up at 1:30pm, an obscenely early hour. To add insult to injury, the beer in his fridge has mysteriously gone missing. Hard liquor is too much on a morning stomach, and so he ventures out of his apartment to grab the bus to the nearest Safebray. But instead of the inbound 27, he gets on the outbound 22, the express line to the Meadowlands.

It isn't like him to get on the wrong bus, which is probably because he's the most sober he's been in weeks. He rarely goes to the Meadowlands, since its neighborhoods are packed with prey professionals focused on building their careers and raising their families. One popular T-shirt claims "I'd Rather Be Shot In South Savannah Central Than Die of Boredom In The Meadowlands". Nick agrees.

Across the bus, a swamp rabbit couple rocks their baby in a carrier and gives him the stink eye. He winks at them.

"Aren't you the fox that killed Judy Hopps?" says the father.

The eyes of the bus lock in on Nick. He crosses his arms.

"Aren't you a brave little bunny to confront a murderer."

The mother pulls down the baby carrier's cover and slides it behind her. The mammals on either side of Nick move far away, giving him plenty of room to lean.

He plans to take the bus to the line's end at the High Road station, where can transfer to catch the Loop Line back to downtown. But the electronic voice announces that that next stop is for Leporine Boulevard with connections to Meadow Centre Mall and Leporine Gardens Cemetery.

Oh, God. That's where they buried her.

The bus slows to a crawl at the shelter, and mammals stand and shift toward the doors.

It'll be the only way to get rid of the delusion, this fantasy that she's still alive. No, maybe another time. Maybe when he's so blitzed he can barely stand. It'll take that much for Nick to see _that_ name on a piece of stone.

The bus doors open and the first mammals step down to the street.

But she's so close. Well, what used to be her is so close. She's only a couple of blocks away. It's the closest he's been since…

A pronghorn steps off. The driver keeps the doors open for last second passengers.

Okay. Let's keep it real.

Nick pushes his way to the doors and jumps out as they are closing.

The cemetery is tightly packed with the small grave sites of bunnies and their slender headstones. Nick wanders the rows with his aviator shades down, halfway searching for her name, halfway hoping he never finds it.

Judy's gravestone is so unremarkable that he almost misses it. Nick backs up and squares himself to it, paws behind his back.

He draws a deep breath. "Hi, Officer Hopps. It's me. It's been a while."

A caretaker, or perhaps a fan, has laid artificial flowers on top of the marker.

"I didn't think to bring you anything! How very rude of me. Etiquette was never my strong suit. In my defense, I didn't know I'd drop by to see you. How've you been?"

The wind blows through the willow trees.

"Yeah. It's a pity our career plans didn't pan out. Picture it— a fox and a rabbit running through Zootopia, throwing the scum of the earth into our paddywagon and high-fiving like the intro to a corny sitcom. And we'd have to have theme music. What would it sound like? Something brassy. A good syncopated bass line."

He smiles and shakes his head.

"Anyway." Nick rubs the back of his neck. "This place isn't too bad for you. Fresh air. Nice grass. The landscaping's not bad either. Oh who am I kidding— _I_ needed to come here." He paces in front of the grave. "I've been in a deep rut. But with you... I don't feel so stuck. Life goes on, Carrots. We have to keep trying, as you say. Time to move on and be free. Time to... " He smacks his lips. "Apologize."

The weight of that word sends his ears back and his head falling forward. He looks away from the stone. "We got dealt a bad hand. Nothing else to it. It wasn't supposed to end like this. We had more cons to pull off, more cases to solve. We were the marks, Judy, and I—"

Nick sniffles. _Do not cry._ He's got to be stronger. Judy would be so disappointed if she saw how weak he's become. He closes his eyes and fights with every ounce of his being to stay in control. "I miss you."

He clears his throat. "See you around, Carrots." He lifts his shades, gives the stone a wink, and strolls out of the cemetery.

* * *

Nick skips the rounds that evening. He sits in his recliner, feet propped up, sipping a fine scotch and listening to his vinyl collection, which he hasn't broken out in months.

She gave him permission to stay alive. He can't imagine how or why, but by visiting her grave, it's like Judy told him to forget his retirement and get back into the hustle. Maybe she even told him that it wasn't his fault. That's the only mammal's opinion who matters.

But that night Nick dreams he's back in the Museum, fallen into the pit of the early mammal habitat exhibit. Judy screams. He comes tearing toward her on all fours, claws scraping against the floor, teeth out, spittle flying. He tries to wake himself up, but it's too late— his teeth dig into rabbit fur, and through the blood he tastes raw flesh.

Nick runs to the bathroom to throw up.


	4. Chapter 4

Several weeks after the first nightmare, Nick is hustling again. He can't remember what happened after he wakes up, but the nightmares' sensations of terror have a way of lingering throughout the day. Unless he stays busy.

Nick jumps back into the pawpsicle hustle, but he pulls out before he and Finnick even find their mark. "This isn't going to work. It's... well it brings back more than I thought it would."

Finnick stands up in the stroller, turns around, and spits out his pacifier. "I'm real proud of you, Nick. You've come a long way."

"Oh, go change your diaper!"

And so Nick goes back to working the solo con. Solo cons are harder since he doesn't have a shill to back him up, but Nick's no rookie— when he was twelve, he cut his teeth as a "homeless" panhandler running away from abusive parents. This particular hustle has taken years to perfect, but he can do it in his sleep.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he says to a young zebra mare who has the dreamy look of an undergrad. He shifts his weight nervously on the sidewalk outside a car repair shop. "I'm in a bit of trouble and I could _really_ use your help."

"Uh, sure, what's up?" She stops and adjusts her backpack.

"Roger Thornpaw, pleased to meet you." He extends his paw and she takes it hesitantly. "I'm an advertising exec over at DNKY. You heard of them?"

"Oh yeah! They do equine fashion."

"Perfect. That means I must be doing a good job!" He laughs.

Nick personalizes the con for each species and personality, which is the secret to its effectiveness.

"You see that little hatchback in there?" He points over his shoulder to a parked car with a shop tag hanging from its rear view mirror. "That's mine. It got into a fender bender this morning."

"Ooh, sorry."

Empathetic mark? Check. She's playable.

"Nothing major, no broken bones or anything. Just some bumper damage, but you know what bumpers are like. Expensive."

Nick scans the sidewalk as if a judgemental bystander might overhear. "This is extremely embarrassing, but the shop told me the repairs maxed out my credit card, and…"

The zebra shakes her head. "No, sorry, I'm broke." She steps back.

Setup's over. Time to reel her in.

"Hold on. You like DNKY, right? I can hook you up with some freebies. Perks of being top brass."

The zebra hesitates. "You serious?"

Nick calls up the DNKY catalog on his phone. "Perfectly serious. What, you'd think I'd ask for money without giving anything in return?" She seems like a bleeding heart, so he'll play the species card to up the ante. "Is it because I'm a fox?"

She holds up her hooves. "Oh gosh! Not at all! I'm _so_ sorry, sir. I didn't mean…"

He smiles reassuringly. "It's okay, hon, don't beat yourself up. Many mammals think foxes aren't responsible enough to work in the corporate world. Some of them happen to be my co-workers." Nick stands next to her as he scrolls through the catalog. "What would you like?"

She squats to get to his level. "I can pick anything?"

"Umm, up to three items. Any more and they might think I'm pulling something. Fox problems."

The zebra chooses two blouses and a skirt that total over Ƶ400.

"Alright." From his back pocket, he pulls out a small leather datebook that's been filled with fake appointments. He writes down the catalog numbers. "And I'll need an address to send them to." She gives him a dorm room at the University of Zootopia.

"Oh, and before you run off…" Nick unfolds an auto repair quote, angling it so the zebra can't read the text. This is where the gambling kicks in— if he bets too high, the game's over. If he bets too low, he cheats himself. "The credit card was able to cover everything except Ƶ36.10."

"Um…" The zebra digs through her purse. "All I have is a twenty."

"That is so gracious, ma'am. I'll do my best to talk the guys in the shop down."

She holds the bill and hesitates. This means he's about to lose. Or she's about to get played big time. "There's an ATM over there."

Beautiful.

The zebra returns and hands him three twenties. _Three_. He must have sent her on one hell of a guilt trip.

"Ma'am, you really didn't have to."

"No, I insist!"

"Well, thank you. I truly, truly appreciate it." Now for the follow through. "Here's my card." He whips out a business card printed with "Roger O. Thornpaw, Senior Creative Director". It has no company name, but it includes a phony Zmail address and the phone number for the Panda Palace Take-Out. "Call me if you have any questions. Your package should arrive in about two to three weeks, give or take."

"Wow." The zebra nods. "This is really cool. Thank you!"

"You're welcome. And if you'll excuse me, I must reclaim my car and head back to the office. My boss is probably about to throw a fit…"

Nick darts into the shop, takes out his wallet, and leans on the counter as if he's about to pay. "Quick question, my friend. What's your going rate for a brake job?"

"750," says the brown bear behind the service desk. "Might be more with parts. What's the vehicle?"

Nick gives a glance out the window— the zebra has disappeared up the sidewalk. "It's a Jag. I'll bring it around later. Gotta run."

* * *

He can hit about five shops a day, and he records his hits in the datebook so he doesn't repeat a shop too often. The police haven't given him trouble, possibly because the marks give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he couldn't ship their (invariably expensive) order for free. The shops rarely complain about loitering, and Nick follows through with a legitimate question even if no marks bite. All in all, it's a damn good hustle.

Nick looks up the next location on his phone: a mom and pop place downtown. There's no direct subway route, so he cuts through a neighborhood off Hill Street that was one of Zootopia's first suburbs over a hundred years ago, back when streetcars opened up the land downhill from the city center.

These days it's become an uneasy mix of trendy, renovated condos and burned out storefronts. The ornate facades and large bay windows hint at a time of comfortable, prosperous families.

In the block ahead, a group of six coyotes in matching white shirts and blue jogging pants stand in a circle and smoke. Nick's ears go back— coyote street gangs and lone foxes don't exactly have a history of peacefully coexisting.

"Hey, little brother!" shouts the biggest, using the standard slur for their vulpine cousins. "Whatcha doin' in Hayvenhurst?"

"Does he wanna play with the big kids?" says another in a baby voice.

Nick slips behind the first door he can find. He can't hustle his way past them unless he's willing to risk a fight.

"Awww, little brother's scared!" They laugh as the automatic door seals shut, and Nick rolls his eyes from the safety of the interior of a building. They'll move on in a few, but first he has to kill some time.

The building turns out to belong to an organic grocery store, a sure sign of gentrification. Nick looks around and notes with increasing concern that almost all its customers are coyotes. But these coyotes sport plastic-rimmed glasses and carry jute shopping bags— it's an enclave for hipsters. So totally harmless.

His breathing calms as he wanders the aisles. Over five bucks for a non-GMO strawberry smoothie? They've got to be kidding! The artisanal pecan bars look worth it, however.

And then he sees her.

A gray, female cottontail unloads a crate of radishes in the produce aisle. She's bent over at the hips, turned away from him.

Oh my God. It… no. Don't go there. You're moving on, remember? Right?

He doesn't remember. Nick circles to the other end of the produce section, treading with light steps. Why on earth would a rabbit want to work in a predator neighborhood? A coyote neighborhood at that?

She wears glasses and a flannel shirt and jeans, but the shape of her face...

"Need any help?" The coywolf manager crosses his limbs.

"Yes. Your rabbit employee over there dropped something and I wanted to give it back. If I may."

The rabbit continues to unload radishes, giving no sign that she heard him.

"Sorry, dude. It's not happening. I've seen this one before."

"Actually…"

"C'mon, fox. Either buy something or leave."

Nick buys the pecan bar, unhappily breaking one of his newly earned twenties. As the clerk rings him up, he sniffs the air to get a read on the rabbit's scent, but it's obscured by the air-conditioning stirring up the smells of the fresh produce.

He waits on the far side of the checkout counter, gnawing on the bar, until the rabbit finally empties her crate and turns around. Nick almost chokes on a pecan—

She could be Judy Hopps' twin. She could be _Judy Hopps_.


	5. Chapter 5

Nick waves slowly to the rabbit, trying to catch her eye. The coywolf manager stares at him from across the store and shakes his head no. Nick salutes him and spins around, heading out through the automatic doors. But once outside, he peers through the glass, hoping for another look at the rabbit's face.

It's impossible. Dead and buried mammals don't reappear weeks later working at hipster supermarkets. But the similarity is so close. Too close.

He must find out who she is and why she looks so much like Judy. There's probably a perfectly logical explanation— she could be one of Judy's one hundred or so sisters. But the way that bunny moved and the way she seemed to avoid him on purpose was uncanny.

There's only one way to know for sure if it's her.

Nick walks around the block to check out the supermarket's back door. It's surrounded by shipping pallets and collapsed cardboard boxes, but from the alley next door, he can hear and smell anyone leaving from either exit. He finds a spot in the center of the alley, leaning against a grimy brick building.

For the first hour, he catches up on Muzzlebook and browses the top threads on Preddit, chiming in with his own puns and sardonic comments. His feet start to get sore from standing in one place, and he wanders in circles for another half hour until his phone's battery drops down to ten percent. Then Nick sits on the asphalt. And waits. His stomach growls. He almost considers buying another pecan bar. Maybe the manager is distracted.

No bunnies walk by on the street. No soft bunny footsteps, no bunny scents.

Someone on an upper story of the brick building starts playing that new track from Tame Impala. It's honestly not bad, and Nick taps his foot to the beat for the first three or four times it plays. But by the eighth repeat, he's ready to throw something through the open window. Who listens to music that many times in a row? Why the hell are they sharing it with the whole neighborhood?

He rubs his face and groans. This is a stakeout. He's on a freaking stakeout.

That dumb bunny managed to turn him into a cop after all.

Eventually the repeat offender shuts off Tame Impala, and Nick savors the quiet. And at a few minutes past 6, the back door closes. Nick's ears perk up— soft footsteps.

He hurries down the alley and sticks his head around the corner of the building. She's heading north.

Nick trails her from what he assumes is a safe distance, about two car-lengths behind. It would be better if he were close enough to zero in on her scent, but if he can smell her, there's a good chance she can smell him. And rabbit ears are far more sensitive than his.

She walks like Judy, alert and upright. But a little… worn out? Working at a grocery store will do that to anyone.

The bunny heads three blocks deeper into the neighborhood and then pauses to cross the street in the middle of the block. Her destination looks to be a green cinderblock motel with open-air balconies and exterior doors: the "Best Canid Inn". She waits for the traffic to clear, and Nick slips behind a coyote in an large red suit waiting by the bus shelter.

The rabbit spots a gap in the traffic, and she crosses the street. The breeze carries her scent past him.

It's Judy. It _is_ Judy.

No doubt in his mind. No matter how sophisticated your hustle, you can't hide your true identity from a fox nose.

But… seriously? What is she doing in a coyote neighborhood? What is she doing _alive_?

 _Alive! Oh my God, she's alive!_

Nick makes a squeaking noise of joy.

The suited coyote turns around. "You having a heart attack or something?"

Nick puts his paws to his chest. "Buddy, she's alive! She's alive! She's right over there!"

Just as he predicted, Judy walks into the motel's office. Then she climbs the stairway and unlocks the first door on the fourth floor.

Nick runs out into the street, causing a taxi to slam on its brakes and almost sending a miniature tractor-trailer into a rat-sized SUV.

He bursts into the office. The decor looks to be salvaged from a junkyard: grilles from classic cars cover the wall like wallpaper, while broken PVC pipes are repurposed as vases and old tires have been turned into planters for ferns.

"Sorry." The elderly female raccoon at the reception desk watches a game show on a black-and-white portable TV. "We don't have any vacancies except for the hourly rooms. But since you're alone, I don't think you're looking for that. No, I shouldn't speak too soon, because some guests... "

Nick throws his paws on the desk. "I have to see somebody. Now."

"Oh, we can't provide that. You always bring your own escort, dear."

"No." He leans forward. "My friend's staying here. She asked me to stop by for a visit." He taps his tail nervously against the floor.

"A friend! I thought you wanted a room, because that's what most mammals want. Except it's mostly coyotes, so I shouldn't say it's most mammals…"

"I get it, I get it!" Nick bangs his paw on the desk. "Which way are the stairs?"

"Straight ahead, right under that sign that says 'Stairs'."

"Thank you, thank you! I love you! You're the best! "

Nick runs across the office and flings open the door. He flies up the stairs, but halfway to the third floor he stops and bends over, winded. Ugh, he needs to get back into shape.

He catches his breath on the fourth-floor railing. It wouldn't be too great if Carrots' first impression of him since the Museum was a bug-eyed and panting fox.

Thanks to downtown's many hills, the balcony has a view of the skyline in the central business district. Not bad for the cheap rent. With his breath calmed, Nick runs his paws through the fur on his face and knocks.

The door opens… partially. The security chain is on. The room itself is dark, but the light from the afternoon sun hits her face.

"Judy!"

She looks up at him stunned, her mouth falling open.

"Carrots! It's me! It's Nick! It's your dumb fox!"

Her face melts as if she'd just heard of a terrible accident. She looks off to the side, her head weighted down. "I'm sorry." It's definitely her voice. "You have the wrong room."

She closes the door.

Nick looks at his claws. Okay… He knocks again. To his surprise, the door opens.

"No, this is the right room." Nick leans on the doorframe. "We wouldn't be having this conversation if it weren't."

Judy sighs. The sunlight highlights a long, furrowed scar running down the bridge of her nose.

"Oh, Judy!" Nick's ears fall back. "Where'd you get that? Come on, Carrots, we have to get you to a furrier right away…"

"Nick, Judy Hopps is dead." She shrinks behind the door. "And you're in a lot of danger talking to me."

"From whom, the raccoon? She's never touched a weapon sharper than a butter knife."

"Please. This is very serious."

"Judy…"

"You can't call me that! That's not my name." She disappears into the dark and returns wearing her glasses. "It's Maddy Hulstlander."

"Well that's a mouthful."

"I'm going to close this door. And when I do, I won't be able to see you again. Not for a while."

She has to be working undercover. It's the only rational explanation.

"Look. I know you're in character and all. I get it. I do it every day myself. But you're _not_ dead, and that's kind of a big deal for me. Can I come in?"

"Nick, you can't be here!"

"I thought in Zootopia, anyone could be anywhere."

Judy furrows her brow. "That's not how the city slogan goes!"

He grins. The old Judy is still around. "Close enough. Now, come on. I'd prefer to continue our chat when a chain isn't splitting your face in half. Reminds me too much of jail. Not that I've ever been there."

She lowers her head beneath the chain and presses her face to the crack in the door. "It's not like I can turn into Judy again if I let you inside. I have to be Maddy for a while. One day, hopefully very soon, I'll explain everything. We'll laugh a little, cry a lot, and then it will be us two again. But for right now, we _have_ to act like a rabbit and a fox who are total strangers."

"Well then let me introduce myself. Good evening, stranger. I'm Nicholas Wilde."

Judy closes her eyes and presses her paws against them. "You just don't get it. You don't understand!"

"Maybe I don't understand because you won't explain what you're doing." He reaches through the crack and strokes her forehead. Oh, that rabbit fur. So soft. So lush.

She pulls away from his touch. But then her eyes meet his. "Five minutes, Nick. Just five minutes."

"Whatever you say, Carrots."

The chain unlatches with a clink, and Judy swings the door wide open.


	6. Chapter 6

Judy backs up until she stands in the room's kitchenette. She turns the dial on an ancient microwave to set the timer. "Alright. Five minutes."

"I got it, I got it! Look!" Nick jiggles the doorknob. "The door is open. I can leave at any moment."

He steps inside: the room smells like generations of cigarette smoke. The wood paneling on the walls has fallen off in chunks, and the loveseat by the bed has a board underneath its cushion to keep it from sagging.

"Nice place." He grimaces. "You could do better than this, Carrots."

She lingers in the kitchenette just out of the light. "It's cheap and it's close to work."

"If you ever want to crash at my place, I don't exactly have objections…"

She cuts him off in the center of the room, crossing her limbs. "Why are you even here, Nick? You know I can't be Judy."

"Why am I here? Is that even a question?"

"Yes. It is."

He mirrors her, crossing his limbs and scowling. "Remember when you said it would be nice to have a partner?"

" _Judy_ said that."

"Guess what, Fluff? I believed her. And today, I feel like being a cop. A dead little bunny just came back to life, and that leaves this cop with a lot of questions. So what have you been up to?"

Judy taps her foot in frustration, and Nick mimics her.

"Ugh!" She steps on his foot to stop the tapping and turns her back on him. "I can't tell you. I can't tell you anything! So you might as well just leave."

This is going nowhere fast. Nick drops the smug grin and rests his paw on her shoulder. "Okay. I hear you, Maddy. You be whoever you want to be. I'm not going to stop you."

She spins around. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Will you go?"

"Certainly. But under one condition. That you explain why you're acting this way."

Judy wanders through the room, clasping her paws tight. "The more I explain, the more danger I'll put you in."

"Danger? We've never been in that before."

She catches his eye. "It's different, Nick. If they found out you were in this building, talking to me, they'd kill you."

Nick's ears go straight back.

"I warned you. It's so bad that Judy has to stay dead until it's over."

He walks beside her. "Can you at least drop a hint?"

She looks down. "No. Well. All I can say is that things went very wrong. _Very_ wrong. And I have to be the one to make them right again."

"You're not talking about that old press conference? You apologized, and that apology still stands, dumb bunny. The whole city knows that Bellwether was darting predators."

Judy shakes her head. "There's more to it."

"As in?"

The microwave bell dings.

Judy startles and stumbles back. "Leave. Now. I've already said too much!"

"I'm not going anywhere! You think I'd leave you when you're in this much trouble?"

She points to the door. "Get out! Please."

"Uh uh. Not going."

"Ooh, I knew this was going to happen! I knew it!" She runs across the room and grabs a small aerosol can from the top of the mini-fridge.

"Is that…"

"Coyote-B-Gone."

"Judy…" He bumps into the loveseat and steadies himself.

She holds the can outstretched with both paws. Her nose twitches. "This is the last thing in the world I want to do to you, Nicholas Wilde." Her voice begins to crack: "But you've _got_ to understand that you have to stay away from me! For your own safety!" She aims the can at his face.

He shivers. "Judy, you wouldn't! Not after…"

"I'm going to count down from ten." She blinks away a tear. And another. "10… 9… 8…"

"Are you _serious_?"

"7… 6… Oh dammit, go to the door! 5…"

She _is_ serious. But maybe not. Judy's a hustler, too. The gambler in Nick is willing to take his chances that he's the mark. "What, am I a criminal now? No wait, don't answer that question."

"4… 3… 2... "

"Alright, I confess! I stole the diamonds! They're buried under a…"

Judy closes her eyes and presses down on the can.

Nick tries to block the spray, but the yellow stream slips through his paws and attacks his eyes, lips, and nose.

"Arghhhh!" He falls to his knees and claws at his face. "That's coyote spray, rabbit! It's too strong for foxes!"

He coughs from deep in his chest as tears and mucus pour out of his head. The mace stings his eyes so hard that his vision turns to white and he struggles to focus. As the world blurs, the pain and hazy vision trigger Nick's memory. And it replays just as it happened.

* * *

Her warm paws press against his back. "No. Nick. Don't do this. Fight it."

"Oh, but he can't help it, can he?" comes that awful sheep's voice. Her last syllable echoes and gets lost in a pool of sound like a bad acid trip. Nick's muscles burn, itching, ready to snap. Must get on four legs. Must move! He opens his eyes. The solid objects of the exhibit are made of liquid, flowing in unpredictable directions. They flow towards him. They threaten him.

Must attack them.

He growls. The bunny with the pink shirt scrambles to the back of the pit. The pink flows away from him, but the gray fur burns bright because it is _alive_. It must be gotten.

A deer looking thing that isn't alive blocks him from getting the gray fur. He destroys it, ripping into its throat until its dead stuffings fall out. The gray fur cowers against the wall. Its cries echo from all around. It is _so_ alive.

He stalks it through the swirling dead green, bearing his teeth. The gray fur has nowhere to go. It knows it. He knows it. He lunges forward and sinks into its blood and flesh.

This is where Nick would wake up. But the playback continues:

The gray fur is not as alive as he thought, but it is mostly alive. It is warm. He releases his hold and bites again. And again. He holds it down with his paws and bites it in small nibbles. Fur rips off. More flesh.

* * *

"Oh my God!" cries Nick with a choke, returning to the motel room. "Oh my God!"

He collapses onto his side and laughs in bursts as if he's hyperventilating.

"I ate her! That's why they couldn't… I _ate_ her! There was nothing left of her but fur!"

Nick lets out a long hysterical laugh that devolves into sobs.

"She told me to fight it!" He coughs in pain. "But I couldn't do it! I couldn't! Oh God!"

He buries his face in the worn-out carpet and wets it with weeks of repressed tears.

Of all the times to fail. Of all the things she trusted a fox to do. Well, it's finally out in the open, isn't it? The Pack was right. They figured out the truth about him twenty-five years before he did.

The warm paws of a rabbit press against his back.

"No. Nick. Don't rub your face in the carpet. You'll make it worse. Breathe in through your nose, breathe out through your mouth. Okay? Now take a deep breath."

He stops crying and turns his head toward the ceiling. Through his swollen eyes, he can see the shape of a gray bunny looking at his face. Very concerned.

"Judy," he whispers.

The burden he refused to acknowledge he was carrying falls off his back. It's gone. It was an illusion. He never needed one, because he truly didn't hurt her. His face is stinging, but the world is filled with light.

"Judy. You've come back!"

"It's Maddy. Hold on, I'll get something to help."

He closes his eyes and lets his tongue flop to the side like a stupid wolf.

She returns and lifts his face, kicking a bowl of water underneath him and dropping his head into it. "Let it soak down into your fur."

Nick rolls his face in the plate.

"Is that better?"

"Judy." He lifts up from the water and shakes his head. His eyes and nose still throb, but the pain is no longer as intense. "You've always managed to save me."

"Let me get a towel." She returns with one and pats his fur dry.

"I tried so hard for you," he says through the cloth. "I'm not a savage animal. It's true. Judy, it's true! I don't need a muzzle… I don't need a muzzle after all!" He blinks and a tear runs down his face.

She twists the towel tight, looking like she's about to be sick. "Nick, I'm so sorry that... I sprayed you. I didn't think you'd actually stand there the whole time."

"I didn't think you'd actually do it. Don't blame yourself. Dumb fox asked for it." He starts to rub his eyes...

"No, no! That'll make it worse." She tugs on his limb to pull his paw away.

Please don't let go, Carrots.

"Would you like some tea?" She lets go and heads toward the stove.

"I'll take a strong black coffee. And the strongest painkillers you've got." Nick collapses into the loveseat and closes his eyes.

"I've got aspirin."

"Good enough."

He listens to the bubbles of the percolator brewing the coffee. (Percolator? She must be shopping at thrift stores.) Her footsteps cross the room. She pushes herself up into the seat, squeezing next to him. He pulls her towards him without realizing what he's doing. Judy doesn't resist.

"Here you go."

He open his eyes to see her with two mugs of coffee. She offers one to him and drops the pills into his paw. "Thanks, Carrots."

She studies his face. "Is it getting better?"

"A little bit."

They sip their coffees in silence. The sounds of Zootopia carry through the open door: engines, car horns, thumping sound systems, laughing children walking home from school, sirens, car alarms. As the late afternoon reaches its peak, the shadows in the room grow impossibly long on the walls.

It's such a peaceful world.

Judy leans on him and presses her face into his shirt. "If Judy could be here… she would say that she knows exactly how hard you tried. It was enough, Nick. It was more than enough. Because she is… _so_ proud of you. She watched you go from a popsicle hustler to a police recruit in two days. And she's lucky to have you as a friend. Her very best friend."

He strokes the back of her head. "And if I were here with Judy, I'd thank her for saying such complimentary things about me. I'd make sure she understood that no mammal has ever cared about me as much as she has. And that I've never cared about another mammal... "

C'mon, Nicholas. You can't fall for Judy.

He pulls away from her and she sits up. They look around uneasily and resettle themselves in the seat.

First, there's no way she'd be able to love him the way he would love her. She's got a career, a family, name recognition, a universally beloved species, all that good stuff going for her. He's a confox. She would be doing Nick a _favor_ by loving him back, and that's just icky. Second, she's on this weird thing where she can't be herself because it's too damn dangerous. That's a blocker for sure. And third, every serious relationship he's been in has ended in blood, ashes, and the occasional arrest. How is he supposed to put _Officer Hopps_ through that?

She hops out of the loveseat. "I don't remember if there's any coffee left."

"I'm good."

Judy pours the rest of the pot for herself. Nick stands and stretches. It turned out she was right— it's not safe for him here. But for different a reason. "I really am leaving now."

She puts the percolator down. "You want to take anything with you? Like aspirin?"

"I can get it if I need it." He walks across the room and leans on the doorframe, pausing to peer over the city skyline. The sun has lowered behind the skyscrapers, giving the business district an orange glow.

Is this really how he wants to leave it? No. He's playing this wrong. After all that's happened between the two of them, there's nothing to lose. So bet it all.

He turns around. "Let's get dinner, Carrots."

She wiggles her nose. "Dinner and what else?"

He shrugs. "Sex, maybe?"

Judy laughs so hard she has to hold onto the counter. When was the last time he made her laugh? Much too long ago.

"Oh, Nick… if I went to dinner with you, it would have to be as Maddy. Maddy who works at the Hayvenhurst Co-op."

"Fine with me. I'll listen to Maddy's boring stories of stocking shelves while I seduce her with my vulpine charm."

" _Just_ dinner, Nick. We'd have to go somewhere crowded where we can blend in."

"You pick the place. Ready to head out? We should beat the rush."

Judy opens her mouth and stops… dozens of thoughts run across her face, none of them comforting. She looks around the room as if searching for an escape route. "I have plans tonight."

"Tomorrow night?"

"Sure." Her eyes are wide.

"Text me." He takes a Roger Thornpaw card from his back pocket. "Do you have a pen by chance?"

"There's one on the counter."

Nick half expects it to be _the_ carrot pen, but it's only a generic pen for a mid-sized mammal. He writes his number on the back. "Don't text the one on the front unless you're ordering bamboo shoots to go. Later, Carrots." He walks through the door...

"Nick?"

Judy's eyes bug out in fear. The motel room seems to swallow her. "Don't tell anyone you found me, okay?"

Judy… He wants to run back into the apartment, lift her off her feet and squeeze her tight. He wants to kiss that tiny mouth and whisper that everything will turn out alright, little bunny, because he's back in her life now. She'll always be safe with her fox.

But that would be showing her his entire hand, and she hasn't even placed her bet. She could still fold.

"Honey, if I claimed I drank coffee with the rabbit everyone thinks I murdered, they'd throw me in a psych unit."

She nods nervously. "You're right."

He slips out onto the balcony and puts on his aviators. "See you later, Maddy."

God, he hopes he's not falling in love with her.

* * *

Judy lifts her ears and listens to Nick's footsteps echo in the stairwell. She steps out onto the balcony and watches him cross the street. Once he makes it to the next block, she locks the door.

Oh for Pete's sake, Nick. You're the best friend in the universe, but your timing is the worst.

Why'd he have to find her when she's so close? If he'd held off for a few more weeks, or even a few days, her mission would be complete and he'd see her face on the news. She would have tracked Nick down instead, asking for his forgiveness for all she did to him.

But that doesn't matter. Nick's here. Her partner has come back and she's got to deal.

Is that a bad thing? At least he knows he didn't kill her— that's already giving him peace of mind. And Nick would be a _huge_ help in the mission. She can't deny that.

Okay, then. They'll go somewhere secluded after dinner and she'll explain everything...

No, she can't risk getting him involved! _He_ wants to destroy both of them, and as long as _he_ is a free mammal, Judy Hopps must stay dead and Nick Wilde must stay away from her. This isn't Nick's fight. After what's happened, it's her responsibility to protect him. And the only way to do that is to keep him in the dark.

Judy carries her mug from the kitchen and sits on the bed. She can still feel his paws.

You don't need a muzzle, Nick. You're the most trustworthy, loyal, helpful, and brave mammal in this city. If only you had a partner who was stronger. Who you could trust not to betray you...

She digs her face into her pillow and screams.


	7. Chapter 7

**MANY WEEKS EARLIER**

Judy slows the truck to a stop at the first red light on the highway out of Bunnyburrow. She whips out her phone and texts Chief Bogo:

 _Night Howlers aren't wolves - it's the common name for a plant that causes rage, delirium etc affects all not just predators. Florists in city stock bulbs. Driving to ZT today._

Texting at a red light? That's against the law for sure. It's a terrible example to set as an officer, but since Judy has technically quit, she _technically_ doesn't have to be a role model. Getting this info to the ZPD is more important, anyway.

The light turns green. Judy floors the accelerator, and the old farm truck rumbles through the intersection in a cloud of black exhaust. Poor mom and dad! She'll explain everything later. Heck, she didn't even pack an overnight bag! Right now, her only goal is to get back to the city and pick up her investigation where she left off.

Judy rolls down the windows and lets the wind blow back her fur. Not having a badge could be an issue, but it's probably not a big one. Nick didn't have a badge and he...

She sees him leave through the glass door of the ZPD, a moment permanently etched in her mind.

Oh, poor Nick. She really screwed that one up, didn't she.

No, it'll turn out fine in the end. Judy will come up with a thorough apology that will point out how insensitive and stupid she was. It will make everything right. She's got over three hours with nothing to do but drive, so she can write it and memorize it and everything.

And then they can be friends again. It'll work!

She passes a highway sign:

Granny Squirrel Gap 24

Elkin 88

Zootopia 191

It's really happening. She's really going back to the city!

Judy turns on the radio— the only options are the country station, the country classics station, the alt-country station from the Tri-Burrows Community College, and the AM talk station where Bunnyburrowers call in to sell each other tractor parts and patio furniture. Luckily, the country station is playing a good one, and she signs along:

' _Cuz I'm a redneck bunny_

 _And I ain't no high class hare_

 _I'm just a product of my raising_

 _In the middle of nowhere_

 _And I keep my carrot lights on_

 _On my front porch all year long_

 _And I know all the words to every Eddie Rabbitt song_

 _So here's to all my sisters out there keeping it country_

 _Let me get a big "hell yeah" from the redneck does like me, hell yeah!_

"Hell yeah!" shouts Judy, pumping her fist. The highway is empty, the sun shines from behind puffy clouds, and the Valley River ripples along beside the road. And she's on her way to correct all her mistakes.

Her phone buzzes:

 _Thanks H will follow up on tip_

Tip? _Seriously?_ She just solved half the case!

The only police work left is to monitor the sales of _Midnicampum holicithias_ bulbs, and she already booked a weasel stealing just that. So get him to talk and see where it leads. Easy!

Of course, Judy probably won't be assigned to the case. She's only an Officer, and Precinct 1 has its own detective division. They're specialists trained for investigations like this. It doesn't matter much that Judy exposed the mayor when no one else could— police departments are procedural, hierarchal. Rookie cops don't get to work on the best cases just because they have the brightest ideas or the best skills. They have to fall in line like everyone else.

Well, that's life, isn't it?

Still, it can't hurt if she did some prelim work on her own. Nothing Bogo needs to know about.

The country station goes to a commercial break and then to a news update:

"A anti-predator rally in Zootopia turned violent when a small group of counter-protesters defaced anti-predator graffiti that was recently painted in Markhor Park. Witnesses say several protesters broke away from the main group and attacked the counter-protesters, who fought back using claws and teeth. Sixteen prey and five predators were injured, none of them seriously.

"Spokesmammals for the Congress of Mammal Equality, the largest predator advocacy organization, have condemned the attack, stating that more radical groups such as the Predator Defense Association were responsible. Mayor Bellwether's office also expressed disapproval, issuing a statement that violence in Zootopia from either predator or prey will not be tolerated by the city.

"Meanwhile, the All-Herd Volunteer Force has promised to double their patrols of prey neighborhoods in response to the attacks…."

Judy turns off the radio and takes a deep breath. The violence is _not_ her fault. Bogo explained how these sorts of predator and prey tensions flare up in Zootopia about every twenty years, though this round is the worst he's seen in his lifetime.

But the feeling of having broken the world will not go away. Until her work is complete.

At the moment, there _is_ something she can fix. The truck twists through Granny Squirrel Gap, and Judy hammers out her apology.

"I know you can't forgive me," she says out loud. No, that sounds like forgiveness is impossible. "I know you don't want to forgive me." No, that's putting the blame on Nick. It's entirely her fault. "I know you'll never forgive me." Not perfect, but better. She's pretty sure Nick will forgive her after he hears this speech.

After a slow crawl down the mountain, the truck enters the Deerbrooke Valley, a vast, flat plain where the highway goes straight to the horizon. On either side are endless cornfields, well-tended by cervine farmers. It's an extremely boring stretch of highway, but at least Judy's got her apology to work on.

"I have to fix this, and I… I want you to... I want you to come with me? I'd like… No, that's not right! I have to fix this, and I can't do it without you. But I can't do it without you."

It's true. Nick crumpled his application and ripped off his badge, but he _is_ her partner. No doubt about it. When Judy teams up with him, it's like they've been best friends for ages. She can't imagine investigating a case with anyone else.

A small blue coupe speeds down the highway in the opposite lanes and brakes hard enough to leave skid marks. They must have been going at least ninety… where's Highway Patrol?

The coupe makes a U-turn through the grassy median and speeds up behind the truck.

Judy rolls her eyes. Sheesh. If only she had her badge. She would have pulled them over so hard they would have filed a complaint against her.

The blue car is missing its front license plates. That's against the law in both Bunnyburrow and Zootopia, and it's likely against the law wherever they're from. She tightens her paws on the steering wheel...

Relax, Hopps. They're probably just harmless yokels with a casual disregard for traffic laws. And c'mon, there aren't any legal turnarounds for miles. Give them a break.

She picks up where she left off in the apology. "I was ignorant blah blah blah, but I can't do it without you. And after we're done, we'll be… much better? We'll be better off. No. After we're done, the world… No! This is personal. And after we're done, I don't care if you think I'm a… You already think that. After we're done, you can… hate me?"

Would Nick really hate her?

Yes, he could. She was a narrow-minded bigot and a horrible friend. But that was the best she could do. Nick shouldn't hate her for one mistake!

But he has the right to. That's the truth.

Judy notices the speedometer— she's slowed down below 40 in a 65 MPH zone. Crud. That coupe must be annoyed. Maybe it already passed her and she didn't notice...

No, it's still there. And it's the exact same distance behind her that it was five minutes ago.

Heh, that's probably nothing. Judy hits the gas pedal and sends the truck back to 65. This trip would be a lot easier with cruise control...

The blue coupe speeds up with her in perfect synchronization.

Now _that_ was weird. Okay. Let's see what's going on here.

Judy floors the accelerator. The truck engine howls, and the needle on the speedometer creeps up to 70, 73, 76, 80…

The coupe follows. Same distance.

82… 83… 84… Judy takes her foot off the gas— any more and this old engine will redline. The truck eases back to 65. The coupe eases back with it.

She looks in the rearview mirror and tries to make out the driver. The windshield is tinted.

Her ears stand alert. Don't panic. They're probably just messing with you. Jerks do that all the time on the highway.

Judy turns on the radio. All the frequencies are static except for one distant country station that comes in and out.

Okay, don't worry about that. That means nothing. As long as she has cell coverage...

She looks at her phone: "No Service"

Okay, that means nothing either. When she gets closer to Elkin, she'll get signal again. And these morons will probably change highways long before Elkin. It's no big deal.

But it is.

There's nothing on either side of the highway except power lines and cornfields. Not even farm roads. It looks the same up ahead as far as she can see.

She notices her nose twitching. Stop that! You're embarrassing yourself. There's no need to be scared. You're an excellent driver. You've driven this highway before. Mom and dad take good care of this truck. And you've got plenty of gas...

There's less than a quarter of a tank left.

A shiver goes down her spine.

Alright. She's got enough until she can fill up at the next station. But the important thing is to not panic! You're a cop! You're a _good_ cop!

Judy drives in silence, the blue coupe following her at the same distance it has for miles. The quiet is too much.

She sings: "I'm a redneck bunny..." She has trouble getting enough breath.

A clearing appears on the horizon. Judy sits up tall in the seat hoping to get a good look...

Oh, thank goodness. It's a gas station.

She eases off the accelerator and lets the truck coast. Of course the coupe slows down too. The station has just two pumps, side by side. Behind them is a tiny mini-mart that optimistically calls itself the "Prairie Stop Marketplace". At least it looks to be in business. The truck pulls into the station.

As does the blue coupe.

Oh no.

Now stop that! Go with the simplest explanation— they're low on gas.

The coupe pulls into the pump opposite from the trunk. Its engine shuts off. An ocelot wearing a pork pie hat calmly steps out of the driver's seat and takes the pump off the hook.

C'mon, look at him. He's not a thug. He's just another traveler who needs to fill up.

Judy taps her paws on the steering wheel. The truck engine idles. Waiting until the ocelot leaves.

If she had her stun gun or her taser. If she had her badge…

Why? Because he's a predator? Nothing he's done so far proves that he's specifically targeting her. He could just have very weird driving habits.

The ocelot finishes pumping and hangs up the pump. He opens the driver's door and gets in his car without as much as giving Judy's truck a glance. The engine turns on.

But the blue coupe doesn't move.

No big deal. She'll just wait until they leave.

A minute passes. They do not.

Oh, don't be such a paranoid bunny! This is exactly why rabbits struggle in Zootopia. All they can see is danger. It's not like he stalked her down a dark alley in a notorious neighborhood— this is a public highway in Deerbrooke County, probably one of the safest regions this side of the city. If she's going to learn how to overcome her prejudices against predators, she'll first have to face her fears.

Judy turns off the engine and pulls out the key. She cracks open the door and hops out. And touches the pump handle…

The two doors of the coupe fly open.

She leaps back into the seat. The hooves of a warthog yank her out and pin her against the side of the truck.

The ocelot is in her face. "You're a very nosy gal, bunny rabbit."

"Get off of me!" She lifts her leg to kick him, but the warthog is standing on her foot. "I'm an officer of the law!"

"You quit the police. But you still act like a cop." The ocelot lifts his pointer claw. "You know what happens to nosy mammals?"

He swipes his claw down the bridge of her nose. Judy shrieks and slips her foot out from underneath the warthog, giving her enough room to land a double kick to their chests. She lands on her tail and they fall back into the gas pumps.

"Forget about the Night Howlers, alright?" The ocelot picks himself up, still wielding his claw. "Or you lose the whole thing, okay?"

"Hey!" The elk owner of the station charges out of the Marketplace, antlers first.

The warthog and ocelot jump in their coupe and peel out. The elk tries to scrape the passenger door with his antlers, but they swerve around him and zoom onto the highway. Back toward Zootopia. They're too far down the road for Judy to catch the plates.

Holy smokes. He could have done a lot worse. He could have killed her.

How would they have known? Only mom and dad and Gideon Grey were there…

The text to Bogo. Someone is reading her text messages.

"How bad are you hurt?" The elk helps Judy up off the pavement. "That was a scary sight for sure."

Judy tastes blood on her lips. "I'll be fine, don't worry about me." She presses her paw against her face, hoping to stop the bleeding.

"Let me help." The elk grabs a first aid kit from the store and bandages her face. "Heavens, what has this world come to. Preds attacking us in broad daylight!"

"I don't think they attacked me because I was prey."

"That's what they do. Search out the most vulnerable and just slaughter them. I tell you what, we need somebody strong who'll stand up to them for once. Put them in their place."

"No disrespect, sir, but I don't think the situation is as simple as that."

"There's this new mayor in Zootopia called Bellwether. She's tough on crime! And she isn't afraid to tell the preds to go shove it, if you'll excuse my language."

Bellwether! She could help her uncover who's tracking her phone— the city has access to all kinds of data. The ZPD clearly hasn't noticed that Judy is bugged, but maybe City Hall can. Judy's always got a friend there.

She takes out her phone and texts the mayor.


	8. Chapter 8

The elk pumps Judy's gas for her and credits it to the gas station. "It's the least I can do."

"You've done more than enough!" Strange how some of the most bigoted mammals can also be some of the kindest. Life is messy that way.

Judy has just enough cell signal to send her text to Bellwether:

 _Someone is tracking my phone and reading my texts so don't send anything that shouldn't go public. I was trailed and attacked by an ocelot and warthog on Highway 19. Got a good look at suspects but no plates. Need ZPD and/or City Hall to help discover who's targeting me. As always appreciate all you do!_

She waits. Three dots appear:

 _Oh my goodness Judy!_ _Are you hurt?!_

 _Not bad. Got my nose cut up. It'll be fine._

 _So sorry! Why do you think they targeted you?_

 _I found out that Night Howlers are a plant that makes mammals go savage. Someone is deliberately doing this to predators._

A long wait. No three dots. Perhaps Bellwether had to go to a meeting. Judy takes out the keys to her truck, and her phone dings:

 _Are you coming to Zootopia today?_

 _Yes. On the road soon._

 _Text me when you get to town. I want to meet with you ASAP about these Night Howlers. Sounds serious._

 _Okay._

 _Don't tell anyone about your attack or the Night Howlers please. Especially the media. The city is on edge right now more than ever. Can't let them stir up fear!_

That's an odd thing for Bellwether to write! She _loves_ the media. The mayor goes on all the Sunday morning talk shows to give her opinion of the past week's news. She takes questions from citizens on Muzzlebook and writes a blog about happenings at City Hall. And she responds to every controversy, no matter how minor. Why wouldn't she want this known?

 _Okay. Need to drive. Later._

 _Later!_

* * *

Judy drives among the endless cornfields, working on her apology. It's as if the attack never happened, except for her stinging nose and the bandages across her face.

"You were right," she says. "I really am just a dumb bunny." She feels like one at the moment.

Why would Bellwether want her to stay away from the media? She hoped Judy would become the ZPD's PR officer! She has to be keeping something from her. But what?

Nick would have some great thoughts— he understands how mammals think better than anyone. But since he isn't here to toss ideas around with, she'll have to run down the scenarios on her own:

Maybe Bellwether is scared of starting another protest that could turn into a riot. That's reasonable. If it got out that a former high profile cop was attacked by an ocelot, it would be bad news for predators.

But once again, Bellwether _loves_ stories like that. A dik-dik got mugged by a bobcat last week, and Bellwether wrote an op-ed in the Zootopia Times that connected it to predator-on-prey violence in general. It was just a random stickup, but Bellwether went on and on about the crime rates of predators versus prey. It's almost as if she wanted the attack to happen…

No. She wouldn't.

Would she? Could she want the truth about Night Howlers hidden so predators keep going savage?

That's pretty cynical. Bellwether doesn't come across like a cynic. Unless that's just a front, and she's as jaded and bigoted as the elk owner of the gas station.

And that were the case, who knows? She might be behind the attacks herself!

Judy shivers.

That can't be. No way. If it was… it's too hard to accept. And there's no evidence for it. Not yet. Innocent until proven guilty. That's how the law works.

On the other side of Elkin, Judy enters Goatswood County and the terrain turns mountainous and forested. She went to summer camp at one of the burrows hidden in these hills, a quiet place where the bunnies worked at a sawmill and tended vegetable gardens just for themselves. Wouldn't it be wonderful to go back and see how that little town is holding up! She's got an investigation to finish first.

Judy rolls down the windows to let the scent of the evergreen trees fill the cab. What are these trees called? She learned at camp long ago but forgot.

One by one, the Zootopian radio stations come in. And before long, she pulls into the line for the Lion's Gate Auto Ferry that will take her across the mouth of the harbor. The buildings of downtown are a ghostly haze from the dock.

The ferry pulls away, and Judy climbs the stairs to the observation deck. She's supposed to text Bellwether that she's in town… but she ought to wait. Do some more sleuthing. The mayor is innocent until proven guilty, but still...

It would be best to find Nick first and apologize. They could talk to Bellwether together. But if he's not willing to help out… that would be his choice. She wouldn't blame him.

The romanesque Communipaw Terminal with its massive clock tower comes into view. Nick _should_ be involved. Even if he turns her down, she has to give him a chance. It wouldn't be fair to him otherwise. Oh, why didn't she ever get his number? Or an email address? Or anything other than his phony tax returns?

Nick's fennec friend will know where he is. What was that little Toot Toot's name? It doesn't matter— his campy van art sticks out anywhere.

The ferry blows its horn, signaling for passengers to return to their vehicles. Judy buckles herself into her seat. Alright— that's half the plan. But how are they going to talk to Bellwether? You can't just ask the mayor if she's doing anything illegal. And what will Nick think when he sees her bloody face? He'd probably say something sardonic about poetic justice. That would be a _great_ way to start making up.

* * *

"It's your lucky day," says the naked mole rat furrier. "We just got a shipment with a matching rabbit color this morning. No dye time for you."

Judy sits at a low table. The furrier stands on a ladder and cuts out pattern from her wound with wax paper and a tiny set of shears. It's her first time at a Zootopian furrier, but Clawhauser claims he's the best in the city.

"You're rushing it, lady. You're supposed to let the wound turn into a scar before you come in!" He climbs down the ladder and places the pattern on a work table.

"I'm sorry. I'm in the middle of something really important."

"If it's so important, why are you stopping to get a furpiece?"

"Long story."

"It's always a long story." The furrier places the pattern on a roll of artificial rabbit fur and cuts around it. "Believe me, I've been in this business for forty years. You're hiding it because you don't want your friends and family to worry."

"What?"

"It was your boyfriend, right? I've seen what rabbit claws can do. It's not pretty."

He takes out several dozen thin metallic clips from a drawer.

"Nobody did this to me! I don't know where you got that idea."

"Sure. You fell down and scraped it on the sidewalk. They all say that." He climbs the ladder with the clips, and he attaches the furpiece to her face by clipping it to the roots of the fur around it. "It's not my business, sure. But when you see it over and over, you gotta say something. They always think they can cover it up and that'll make it better. It doesn't work that way, kit. He'll do it again. PSA: dump him. If you can't dump him, go to the police. Find a shelter. When you need help, you need help."

"I'm disturbed that you think I got this from some sort of domestic incident."

"Like I said, I've seen this over and over for forty years. You try to hide your problems from the mammals you love. You don't want them to know, and you don't want them to get involved. But a furpiece won't change a thing. Your problems keep happening. So don't hide 'em!"

He steps down from the ladder. "Turn around."

Judy looks in the mirror on the wall. She can tell where the patch is, but it sits almost flush with the rest of her fur. It feels a little strange, but it doesn't hurt.

"Not bad," says the mole rat. "It'll need refitting in a few weeks because you rushed it. But not bad."

She pays with her credit card.

"Listen," he says. "Take care of yourself, kit. Don't do anything stupid."

Heh, that's not bad advice. Judy leaves the shop and lets her eyes adjust to the blistering sunlight of Savannah Central. A desert fox might live here, although Sahara Square is even more likely.

"Excuse me." Two rams stand in the middle of the sidewalk and point at a map, the free ones City Hall hands out to tourists. "Do you know which subway line takes us to Central Station?"

Judy peers over the map. "Hmm. From here you'd need to take the F train out to Sahara Square and then…"

A third ram lifts her into the air and throws her into the parked delivery van before she can breathe in to scream.

* * *

"You've given me _quite_ the dilemma!"

Bellwether paces in front of Judy in an old shipping warehouse that sits on piers in the Harbor. Armed sheep stand guard along the walls.

"First you followed my clues to Lionheart faster than I expected, which is really to your credit, Judy. Then you connected the rest of the dots, and now here we are. Good job! A+ work!"

She applauds and and the sheep guards clap with her.

"So what am I supposed to do?"

Judy struggles under her cuffs and shackles. The breath of the guards behind her is awful. "Stop harming innocent predators!"

"Oh, I can't do that!"

"Why not? You're the mayor of Zootopia!"

"Exactly! And it's just so sweet of you to think that _maybe_ I'd change my mind. So sweet. I can't kill a cop that sincere!"

She laughs and looks at her guards with a smile. They are expressionless.

"I said, 'I can't kill a cop that sincere!'"

She laughs again. Silence.

"Laugh!" whispers Bellwether.

The sheep guards' chuckles echo throughout the warehouse.

"I'll tell you what I'll do. Doug?" Bellwether snaps and an obese ram waddles over with a plastic deposit bag. "How much do you want, Judy?'

Doug unzips the bag and holds it in front of her face: it's crammed full with one-hundred and five-hundred dollar bills.

"That's… that's a lot of money!" says Judy.

"It is! You can take it all if you like. Go ahead, be greedy!"

"Is this… taxpayer money?"

"Oh of course not! I wouldn't be that stupid!"

Judy narrows her eyes. "Then where are you getting it?"

"Once a cop, always a cop! How much is in there, Doug?"

"Three hundred and fifty thousand bucks."

"And it's all yours if you want!"

There will be strings attached, and Judy assumes she knows what they are. But it never hurts to ask. "If I take the money, then what?"

"You swear to keep your little mouth shut as long as you live. I don't care if you go back to the ZPD or not, Judy. I trust you to do the right thing. That's what's so great! You have _values_. Our city needs more mammals like you."

"And by 'values', you think that means I won't talk."

"I was counting on it!"

"Then you have no idea who I am!" She squirms. "The moment I get out of here I'm going straight to Bogo and telling him that Mayor Dawn Bellwether is using Night Howlers to harm predators. I don't exactly have any evidence, but _so what_. They need to know. They _will_ know."

Bellwether smiles timidly. "Oh dear. I was hoping we wouldn't have to do this. Doug? Who's next?"

Doug zips the bag shut. "Female tiger. She runs a register at the Ficus Heights Hardware Store."

"Great! I can see it now— customers fleeing the store in a panic, a certain bunny ending up directly in front of a savage Ms. Tiger. It'll be the perfect feeding opportunity."

"You're gonna feed me to a predator?" Her heart pounds. "You'd kill the first rabbit police officer just like that? There are going to be a _lot_ of angry bunnies!"

"Of course! Every movement needs a martyr!"

Bellwether's phone rings. She looks at the number and scowls: "Not now, dammit!"

She sighs. "Excuse me, I have to take this." She hurries to the far end of the warehouse and answers.

Judy lifts her ear to listen in:

"Can you call back later?" Bellwether whispers. "I'm dealing with Hopps!"

A male voice is on the other end. Judy can't make out the words, but his tone is gentle and silky.

"I don't care! Your boys scratched her up, my boys got her into custody! So who's running this on the ground!"

The other voice replies calmly.

"That's just your opinion. We're doing perfectly well down here on our own. Do _you_ want to get _your_ nose dirty? I don't think so!"

The voice speaks for several minutes. The only word Judy can make out is "fox". Bellwether taps her foot and scratches the wool on the side of her head.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. It'll never work." A shorter pause. "I'm well aware who's paying! But this is my show, and I can run it however I want!"

Judy stands straight and lifts her other ear. That voice… she must remember it. He speaks with such confidence. Whoever it belongs to is the key to all of this.

"Oh, you'd do that? You'd ruin us because you're not getting your way? Well you're acting just like a baby, mister!"

Amazing how, unlike Bellwether, the mammal on the other end never gets agitated.

"I can't listen to this any more. I'm coming over. And you're _not_ making a move before I get there!"

Bellwether stomps to the center of the warehouse. "Never do business with a pred," she grumbles to Doug under her breath.

Okay. That narrows it down a little.

"Keep her here!" she shouts to the guards. "I'm going out. Doug! You come too."

All the sheep guards file behind Bellwether as she walks to the door.

"No! No!" She waves her hooves. "Stay _here!_ " She points to the floor. "You can't keep her here if you go with me!"

They return to their posts. Judy squats on the floor and closes her eyes.

She's going to make it out of here alive. She has to. And if she doesn't… she has to.


	9. Chapter 9

Day becomes afternoon, and afternoon becomes night. Judy hobbles around the warehouse in her shackles, pressing her face against the small, grimy windows that face the Harbor. She taps the panes with her forehead. They won't break that easily. Even if she could somehow jump out, she can't swim with her paws and feet bound.

Except for one guard at the door, the rams who are supposed to be watching her are running into a temporary wall to see who can make the longest crack with their horns. What imbeciles.

And where is Bellwether? It's been hours since she left to meet her mysterious patron. She could be stuck in meetings at City Hall. Judy's stomach rumbles. Is she starving her out? Is Bellwether trying to break her down until she accepts the hush money? No way. She won't cave that easily. Judy will fight until her last breath.

One of the guards playing the wall-smashing game gets a phone call. "Sure. Hold on." He stands in front of Judy and takes a picture of her with his camera.

She blinks. "What was that for?"

The ram waddles back to the wall.

"Could you just kill me already!" Judy shouts. "Why don't you toss me in the harbor and let me drown? Or crush me with your horns? Or just sit on me! I'm sick and tired of waiting to be murdered with nothing to do in the meantime!"

The rams gaze at her. One of the them points to the wall. "You want in?"

"Ugh!" She kneels on the floor, her head and ears falling forward. "Hurry up, will you!"

Voices come from outside the building. Judy lifts an ear— Bellwether.

The guard pulls the heavy metal door open. Doug and Bellwether step inside. She carries what looks like stapled packets of paper.

"Everybody go home!" Bellwether shouts. "Except Woolter and Jesse! And Judy!"

The sheep file towards the door in a single line. And the warthog from the gas station slips inside the warehouse between them.

Judy's heart races… Whoa. Is he carrying a picnic basket?

He is. In his other hand is a bottle of red wine.

That's… different.

"Get over here, Judy!" Bellwether and Doug sit at a card table under a bare lightbulb. Judy hops as best she can under her shackles.

The warthog blocks her path. He wears an unbuttoned dress shirt that shows off a food-stained undershirt. Great fashion sense.

"Ms. Hopps, I apologize for what went down this morning." His voice is nasal— definitely _not_ the voice of the male on the phone. "There's been a change of plans."

"I'll say! Who are you?"

"The name's Claude." He looks behind him at an irritated Bellwether. "Don't worry," he whispers. "We're going to get you out of here alive."

"Who's we?" she whispers back.

"Me and the boss."

"Sit down, pig! You too, Hopps!" Bellwether rubs her face. "Before we get started on this absurd little charade, I want to go on the record and say that _none_ of this was my idea. If any part of this plan gets fouled up, everyone in this room is guaranteed to end up captured and/or dead!"

Claude lifts Judy into a folding chair.

"You got that, pig? Tell him I said that!"

Claude grunts. "Warthog! _Phacochoerus africanus!_ You need a new pair of glasses, lady."

"Will you tell him?"

"Sure. Fine." He opens the picnic basket and sets a styrofoam box with a tossed berry salad in front of Judy.

"Where did this come from?" she whispers.

"The boss. He figured you'd be hungry..."

"Let's get started!" Bellwether talks over him. "Everybody has their own plan." She throws a packet to each of the seated mammals. "It tells you where you're supposed to be, when you're supposed to be there, and what you're supposed to do. If you're with Hopps, it's also your job to watch her. And so help me God, Judy, if you decide to be a hero cop and break character, we will take you out!"

Judy looks at the packet. "I can't really, uh... open his. Or eat my dinner. Without my paws, you know?"

"Uncuff her, Doug."

He unlocks the cuffs. She's free! She could overturn the table and make a run for the door… but she's still in shackles.

Claude places a silver fork next to her salad and uncorks the wine. "Eat up!"

She does. It's an extremely fresh salad— harvested today, rinsed within the last hour. Details only a farm bunny would notice. To go through that much trouble, "the boss" must be making a point of providing her with the highest quality food. It really is delicious.

"Judy?" Bellwether taps her hooves on the table. "Are you going to read your packet? We're waiting!"

"Knock it off, cud-chewer! Let her finish first!"

Bellwether's face contorts in rage. "How dare you talk to the _mayor_ of Zootopia that way, you flip-flopping omnivore!" She snaps. Doug pulls out a stun gun from his holster as Claude does the same.

"No!" Judy holds up her paws and meets the eyes of Doug and Claude. "Nobody is going to shoot anyone at this table! Now I'm going to finish the salad that this kind warthog brought me, and then I'm going to read Mayor Bellwether's packet while I drink my wine. Does that make everyone happy? Good. Because that's what I'm going to do."

She lives up to her promise, not opening the packet until the styrofoam box is empty and the wine glass is in her paws. Judy reads the first page:

* * *

Role: OFFICER JUDY HOPPS, ZPD

Goals:

1\. To present evidence of a Night Howler conspiracy to NICK WILDE

2\. To collect the supposed evidence of the conspiracy

3\. To lead WILDE with the supposed evidence to the secure location of the Natural History Museum, currently under renovation

4\. To confront DAWN BELLWETHER, establishing the mayoral nature of the conspiracy for WILDE's benefit

5\. To ensure that BELLWETHER successfully poisons WILDE with a Night Howler dart

* * *

"So that's how you've been doing it!" Judy nearly leaps out of her seat. "You've been shooting predators with _darts_! The city is going to be _furious_ when it finds out!"

"Keep reading," says Bellwether.

* * *

6\. To separate herself from WILDE as he undergoes Predator Devolution Syndrome

Additional Notes for Ms. Hopps:

DAWN BELLWETHER requested that JUDY HOPPS be killed by a predator undergoing PDS. Given Ms. Hopps' extraordinary contributions to our city and to her species, I found this completely unethical and out of the question. I proposed that Ms. HOPPS appear to be killed while a SUBSTITUTE female Eastern Cottontail, wearing Ms. HOPPS' clothing, was mauled and eaten by the predator. The cottontail must be recently killed beforehand so as not to apply resistance. She must be mutilated by the predator sufficiently to make her indistinguishable from HOPPS, but not completely ingested, which would prevent a successful identification from the coroner.

These requirements narrowed the range of predator to use. A smaller predator such as a vulpine or mustelid was preferable. After a period of research, I determined that Red Fox NICK WILDE was the ideal candidate.

Mr. WILDE and Ms. HOPPS have a working relationship, although this has not been heavily publicized outside of a few predator-focused media outlets. She will be able to lure him into a controlled environment where he can be darted and can maul the SUBSTITUTE. Since HOPPS and WILDE have collaborated on police investigations in the past, the situation will unfold under the pretext of a new investigation.

(As a side note, I disagreed with Ms. BELLWETHER on the nature of the pretext. Her stance was to invent a crime and not refer to her conspiracy. However, darting Mr. WILDE provides a unique opportunity for her movement. Mr. WILDE is a confox with a lengthy criminal history that implies alcohol abuse. His status and credibility within non-criminal society is very low, and should a treatment for PDS become available, his claims that Mayor BELLWETHER is intentionally harming predators will be discarded as the ravings of an untrustworthy vulpine. WILDE's words will help discredit any similar conspiracy theories.)

* * *

Judy closes her eyes. Nick cannot go savage. He _cannot!_ He will not. After the press conference… She absolutely will not allow it to happen. That poor fox deals with enough shame about being a predator as it is, and if he believes he killed her… oh my goodness. He'll go insane. He'll kill himself.

No. Not on her watch.

"I'm not doing this." She closes the packet and shoves it across the table to Bellwether. "This is evil. There's no other word to describe it. It's evil!"

Bellwether grins. "We can always go back to our first plan. I'd love that, now that you mention it!"

"Ms. Hopps." Claude lowers his head to hers, concerned. "The boss went to a lot of trouble to come up with this. He really doesn't want you to die."

"Funny how he's so interested in saving my life after he tried to take it this morning!"

Claude shrugs. "What can I say, bunny? He makes the decisions, we carry them out!"

Why would the boss want to save the life of a troublesome cop? What stake does he have in any of this? She reads the final paragraph:

* * *

After the above goals are complete, Ms. HOPPS will enter my protection until conditions are favorable for her return to Zootopian society.

* * *

She flips through the rest of the packet: it's a collection of schedules, locations, and maps.

"What does he mean when he says I'll 'enter his protection'?"

"Beats me," says Claude.

"You think he shares his private thoughts with little old _me_?" says Bellwether.

"Who is this mammal, anyway?" Judy pushes herself up on the table.

Claude, Bellwether and Doug give her blank stares. Jesse looks at the ceiling. Woolter yawns.

Whoever he is, he's evil. And undeniably brilliant. It takes brains and confidence in your own abilities to create a plan this audacious. Given how he funds Bellwether, he's also rich. The combination of all three makes him a candidate for the most dangerous criminal in Zootopia.

Judy pulls the packet across the table, back to her place.

 _God, please let this be the right decision._

Well. She will cooperate.

She will carry out his plan and enter his protection. And once she gathers evidence on who he is and what he stands to gain, she _will_ take him down. There will be justice. Guaranteed.

But to help kill an innocent bunny? To make _Nick_ of all predators go savage? To fake her own death?

Judy leads her forehead on her paws.

She came to Zootopia to make the world a better place. And to do that she has to get to the heart of what is throwing the city into unrest. This is her only opportunity. Damn the consequences.

 _Oh God, please let this be the right decision._


	10. Chapter 10

_Oh, Nick. My beautiful, precious fox._

 _One day, when you're yourself again, I'll tell you the story so you can understand. Until then, I'll have to repeat it to myself over and over to keep it fresh. To keep me from forgetting what I did to you._

 _You know what happened. You probably think I made a mistake. In a way, I did—I thought I was clever enough to beat them. Believe me, Nicholas Wilde, I tried my best. At least, I hope I did. They didn't leave me much to work with, but I was_ not _going to let them win._

 _Finnick told me about the bridge where you liked to hide out, and they followed me—Bellwether and her idiot rams trailed me in a car. When I got out of the truck, they were hiding just within earshot. Close enough for them to dart you if things didn't go the way they planned._

 _Oh my goodness, Nick, what a joy it was to see you again! And of course you were upset. How couldn't you be. I gave you my speech and I held it together until I got to "And after we're done…". Because I knew we wouldn't be done._

 _You were the target and I was the bait. They kept me alive to make you go savage, to give Bellwether the martyr she always wanted. Oh, Nick, I wasn't crying because I was disappointed that you'd hate me! Please don't think I'm that selfish a bunny! I was crying because you deserved none of this. What a horrible,_ horrible _way to pay you back for helping me, for allowing me to get close to you. I couldn't even look at you, knowing what they were about to do..._

 _But when you played back my voice on the carrot pen and turned around with that smile, I was certain._ We _were going to beat them. We were going to beat them_ together! _Nick and Judy— the sly fox and the dumb bunny, and sometimes the other way around!_

 _You're totally going to make fun of me for this, but deep down, I believe there's something special about our partnership. Something about a fox and a bunny teaming up makes us immune to any of the evil the world can throw at us. After everything, I still believe it._

 _But I couldn't tell you who or what we were up against— he had them plant a bug in the truck, and they pinned a bug with a tracker under my shirt. If I'd given you the whole story, the rams would have caught up with us and darted you. And then you'd have to live with the nightmare of eating me for real._

 _So we had to continue the fake investigation he planned out. I wish you didn't know Duke Weaselton, because we could have spent hours together finding out who he was. Days, even. They didn't tell Weaselton about the plan, but he was their actual errand boy. The plan called for us to make him confess where he dropped off the Night Howlers. It was all for your sake as I led you deeper into the trap._

 _But Weaselton wouldn't cooperate, and that was a gift. Bellwether and the rams seemed to buy our pretense of taking him to Mr. Big's mansion for an interrogation, but I think they caught on when the Big's polar bears closed the driveway gates before they could drive in._

 _For those brief moments, we were completely safe. Weaselton talked, just like they predicted, and I was ready to rip off the bug and explain how_ very _close you were to being darted. But then Kevin brought us a message, a note one of the rams had handed through the bars of the gate:_

" _Mr. Big— Ms. Hopps and Mr. Wilde do not belong to you. They belong to me. Kindly return them. -E"._

 _You remember how Big kicked us out so suddenly? I was as baffled as you were, and I asked why. "It's bad business to get into a territory you have no stake in." One day I'll explain what he meant._

 _And so we had to go to the Banyan Street station like Weaselton told us to. That was the real drop spot, but that wasn't the real lab inside— it would have been too risky to show us. Doug had thrown together some equipment to make it look like the genuine operation, and he gave us a convincing demo once he heard us come in._

 _Now here's what was supposed to happen: when Doug left to get his latte, we would grab the dart gun and a few bullets and run out the other door. The rams would "chase us" until they "ran out of steam". As we made our way to the ZPD, still being tracked, I would suggest a "shortcut" through the Natural History Museum._

 _But I was both a clever and a dumb bunny. I was clever enough to think about using the subway car to escape, and dumb enough to think that we'd actually be able to escape to place where they couldn't catch up to us._

 _I don't have to remind you of how that turned out._

 _And the worst part was that we ended up at the Natural History Museum anyway. How's that for luck. But even when Bellwether stepped out and revealed her conspiracy, I refused to give up hope. The fox and the bunny_ _were going to do this._

 _We came so close. Goodness, Nick, we almost made it! You almost did, at least._

 _I didn't trip— I cut myself intentionally on that tusk. I couldn't explain while they were on our tails, but I was giving you your chance to escape. A sly fox could have easily outrun them. You would have made it out of the trap, Bogo would have gotten the evidence, and today you'd be the hero of Zootopia. And, well, I wouldn't have been around to see it._

 _Nick, believe me. I was willing to go. I would have saved two lives and you would have stopped the conspiracy. I'm completely serious— it would have been worth it._

 _But instead you carried me._

 _Oh my sweet fox, you picked me up and carried me. Because you knew for certain that we had to go on_ together _._

 _Nicholas Wilde— if you ever think of yourself as shifty, or petty, or mean, or nothing more than a popsicle hustler— remember that moment. Please._

 _And as for me… I lied. I didn't switch the Night Howlers for blueberries. I wasn't as noble or selfless as you. We missed our last chance to escape, and I was going to keep investigating. No matter what it took. If the serum didn't work, then Bellwether wouldn't have her martyr, I wouldn't have had a chance to meet him, and I never would get to the bottom of it._

 _I thought… it doesn't matter what I thought. I hurt you. I'll never be able to rid myself of the memory of seeing you writhe in pain, or your contorted, enraged face. Not_ your _face. The face of some wild creature that had taken over your body._

 _Please forgive me. And no, you don't have to forgive me if you don't want to. Don't feel obligated._

 _Now that I've told you the truth, it's probably best that we leave forever. I doubt you'll be able to trust me again._

 _But despite everything, I'd love for us to be Nick and Judy again. If we could find a way to move past what I did… that would be the most wonderful thing in the world. The dumb bunny in me hopes it's possible. Is it really, Nick?_

* * *

As the savage fox shreds the stuffed deer in the exhibit, Judy finds herself lifted out of the pit by a ram wielding a rope ladder. In her place, the ram tosses a dead female rabbit, dressed in clothes identical to hers.

Another life destroyed.

Who is she? How did they pull her into this? Judy never finds out, because the fox tears open the artery in her neck.

She covers her eyes and screams. This has to be a nightmare. That would explain everything. She'll wake up back in her old bed in Bunnyburrow. The alarm will go off and...

A white paw with long fur between the claws covers her mouth.

"What a horrific sight," whispers the suave voice from the phone. "Poor Mr. Wilde. You did everything you could for him. You're a very brave bunny."

The white mammal grabs her by the waist and pulls her into the shadows of the museum. He's not very tall, that's for sure.

Officers' voices… They're coming. They'll be able to find her!

Judy tries to yell but the paw muffles her. "No, no. You're not safe here. They'll think you're involved."

He guides her toward the open door of a museum classroom. He may be small, but he's _strong_. "It wouldn't be good for Officer Hopps to be accused of making a predator go savage," he whispers in her ear.

The white mammal shuts the door and releases her from his grip. "Now let's have us a proper introduction." He flips the lightswitch—

Judy's captor is some sort of weasel relative. A stoat? But his fur is blinding white. Not white like an arctic hare or a polar bear, but white like sunlight hitting snow.

The stoat wears a white dress shirt with a black waistcoat and striped gray trousers. The tip of his tail is coal black, creating a startling contrast to the rest of his fur. His whiskers are meticulously trimmed, and his warm brown eyes study her, apparently lost in thought.

He's freaking gorgeous.

Oh, Judith Hopps! Now is _not_ the time for bunny hormones to come out! This mammal is a dangerous criminal under investigation!

"Who are you?"

"I'm best known as the Ermine."

"Is that what your friends call you?"

"Yes."

"I doubt you have many good friends."

"It wouldn't be wise to underestimate me, Ms. Hopps."

The officers are still talking around the pit… this door has no lock. She could run to join them! But with her lookalike dead, the Ermine could accuse her of being part of the conspiracy… oh God, he's set traps everywhere.

"Alright. I have just a couple of questions." She crosses her limbs with forced confidence. "Now that I'm for all intents and purposes _dead_ , what exactly do you plan on doing to me?"

The Ermine smiles a gentle smile. "I suppose you think I'm some sort of deviant murderer type. No. I'm merely offering you a place to stay until this whole brouhaha about preds versus prey dies down. It's your choice. You're free to go if you like."

He steps closer. Wow, that fur is… stop it, Hopps!

"Of course, if you were seen on the street after dying and making a fox go savage, I doubt the predator community would, shall we say, embrace you. Or would the prey community after it turns out that the rabbit corpse with your name in the morgue isn't you. But that would be your choice. Don't let me stop you."

The Ermine looks her in the eye. "Ms. Hopps?"

She grins.

He must believe that she finds him charming. Well, it's true— he's charming in that superficial psychopath way. The Academy trained its officers in the signs of psychopathy so they could avoid being manipulated. But that's not the real reason why she smiles.

"Okay. I'll take your offer."

While Nick was going savage, she picked his pocket. And now in her own pocket is the carrot pen, still technically Nick's, the switch set to continuously record.

 _We're doing this, Slick. We're still doing this together._


	11. Chapter 11

Nick eats greasy bug sliders for dinner at his favorite bar, a seedy joint along the Riverside called "We're Closed". This was where he was supposed to end a day of hustling, but he wasn't supposed to end up… does this feeling have a name? Lost? Disturbed? Haunted? Dealing with emotions isn't his strong suit.

 _She's alive._

Weeks ago, knowing that fact would have settled all the unrest in his mind. Simply _seeing_ her again would have given him a lifetime of happiness. But tonight, surrounded by neon lights, cigarette smoke and a terrible cover band with an out of tune guitarist, Nick is a lone fox with a problem no one can relate to.

She's alive, but she's not really Judy. And it turns out he really did eat a rabbit when he went savage.

It wasn't _her,_ thank God, but unless he somehow ended up with a false memory, he _ate_ a mammal.

Okay, then. So it happened. It happened in the past while he was in a deranged state. Granted, it's probably the worst thing he's ever done, but at least he didn't do it _intentionally_. It was a freak accident. If Nick reflected on all the ways he's screwed others over in his lifetime, he could go insane with guilt without much assistance.

But someone made that freak accident possible. Bellwether? What did she have to gain from keeping the real Officer Hopps alive?

Who knows. Who knows anything anymore. Who knows why Judy won't use her real name, who knows why she's hiding in a seedy motel room.

An elk doe punches a red deer stag, and the lion bouncer breaks them up and escorts them out the door. The crowd looks up from their drinks and games of billiards.

What if she...

No. Judy would never do that. She made a mistake with the Night Howlers. That's all there is to it. She would never _let_ him be darted. Not after he told her the muzzle story, a story no one else has heard besides his mother.

But Judy _could_. She can be unpredictable. A little impulsive. Always driven. And like any good hustler, she's three steps ahead of everyone else. Even if that means...

Nick takes a swig of Blind Pig IPA. Nope. He won't consider it. A world in which Officer Hopps operates in a moral gray area and is willing to use him as collateral damage is a world he doesn't want to live in. That bunny is _pure_. Despite the odds, she managed to retain all the integrity and sincerity he was forced to give up, and she brought back what little was left in him. Judy's filled with so much life that she _glows_.

Goddammit, it's true— he loves her. Judy Hopps is his partner. And if his partner betrayed him...

He stares at the neon signs.

Then there would be no hope left in the world. Nothing would have meaning. And he might as well not wake up in the morning.

But Nick has gotten used to waking up in the morning, and so he orders another beer to forget the idea. The cover band struggles through "Muskrat Love" under fire from the insults of the bar goers, until the armadillo bassist pulls his plug from the amp and stomps off.

* * *

That night, Nick dreams she's in his bed. Sobbing.

"Carrots!" He turns on the bedside lamp. "Carrots, what is it?"

Judy pulls the covers tight to her face, shaking with fear. "It's too late!"

"Too late? Too late for what?" Nick strokes the back of her head, but she recoils at his touch.

"It's over, Nick! It's over!" Her pupils are large and lifeless. "We're finished. It's too late!"

"Oh, little bunny, nothing's finished…"

She screams.

And he wakes with a jolt, moaning and gasping for air.

Nick stumbles into the kitchen in his boxers and puts on the kettle for a hot toddy. He's never been superstitious, and he's never given dreams much credence, but _that_ dream… It can't be a good sign.

Why would she tell him it's over? She's just now came back into his life, and there are so many more cases, so many more hustles...

Nick adds whiskey and honey to the mug, and he pours the hissing kettle. It can't be because...

He shivers. No, Carrots. You wouldn't have.

 _I won't let you._

* * *

The hot toddy eases Nick back to sleep, but the dread lingers into the next morning. He waits in front of a car repair shop in Sahara Square, scanning the sidewalk to flag down pedestrians.

It's not that he knows Judy made him go savage— it's that she _could_ have. It gnaws at him, no matter how hard he tries to push it out of his mind.

And if she did… he doesn't want to know. Ever.

He could marry her, adopt three dozen kits with her, and go to his grave being lied to as long as he doesn't have to come to terms with _that_ possibility.

His phone buzzes. It's a strange number:

 _Hi Nick, this is Maddy. I'm using my boss Jeff's phone so don't do anything embarrassing. You still up for dinner?_

He's always up for dinner with his bunny!

 _Of course_

 _Great! We need a dark quiet place where we can talk and not be noticed. I have a lot of important things I need to tell you ASAP._

That… could mean anything. Hell, she might want to confess her love of binge-watching Bray's Anatomy.

 _Jeff suggested Caetano's in the Rainforest District. You been there before?_

 _No. It's a date place. Is this a date_

 _I don't know but I need to see you tonight Nick. It's very important._

He gulps. C'mon, be real. She isn't going to talk about _that._

 _Ok. What time_

 _6:30?_

 _Hmm might be tough, my boss isn't as flexible as yours_

 _Hehe. I'll make reservations. See you then!_

 _Ok. Say hi to Jeff. Btw co-ops suck, I hate groceries_

 _Hardy-har._

The streets of Sahara Square are deserted today. Nick gives up on his current location and heads off to the next shop on his list.

This is exactly why he doesn't do relationships— you have to let them get to you. And she's already gotten to him many times over.

If Judy were your average street hustler, he'd expect her to screw him over in some way. That comes with the territory. He would prepare himself beforehand, and after she betrayed him, he'd cut his losses and move on.

But she's his bunny. The bunny who saved his life in more ways than one, the bunny he lost...

Nothing's going to make him lose her again. Not even reality. No matter what the evidence shows, _Officer Judy Hopps would never hurt her fox_.

Is he a sucker for believing that? Is he just another alcoholic afraid to face the truth?

Ugh, the A-word. That word needs to be banished from the dictionary.

Nick gets another message:

 _This is Jeff, Maddy's boss. I'm curious why you think co-ops suck. We try to strike a balance between access to quality goods and affordability. If you have ideas for making our store better, I'd love to hear them. :-)_

He laughs so hard that tears roll down his face. Wow, he needed that.

* * *

Caetano's is packed when Nick gets there— there's a line out of the door for mammals waiting for a table, and even the line for talking to the hosts and hostesses is five mammals deep. He wears his usual tie with his dress shirt, having made an attempt at ironing it.

 _She's going to tell you. She's going to confess. You can't stop it._

"I have a reservation," his voice cracks. "For two." What is this, middle school again?

"Under what name?" The capybara host is giving him the familiar "what is this fox trying to pull" look. Goddamn it, voice crack!

"It's for Maddy." What's her fake last name? "Hustlender. Holstander. Something like that."

The capybara looks in the reservation book. "Madeline Hulstlander. And one guest."

"Yes. I'm the guest."

The capybara raises a skeptical eyebrow. "This way, please."

Caetano's is decorated with full-grown palm trees and towering vine-covered columns that suggest ancient ruins. The lights are dimmed to a warm glow, and gentle bossa nova music plays in the background.

All these happy couples falling in love. And she's about to destroy… no, she's not.

Nick follows the capybara to one of the midsize mammal rooms, who seats him at a small booth hidden between the palms. "Your waiter will attend to you shortly. Mr…"

"Wilde. Nick Wilde."

The capybara sneers.

"That's right, capypants! It's me, the bunnykiller."

As soon as the host leaves the room, Nick drops his head to the table and stretches his limbs across it. Where the hell is she? What the hell is he doing here? He could leave before it gets dangerous… but damn if he doesn't need to see her face again. His bunny.

The tuxedoed tapir waiter stands at attention next to the booth.

Nick does not sit up.

The tapir shifts his weight.

Nick stares into space.

The tapir clears his throat. "Good evening, sir. Is this your first time dining with us at Caetano's?"

Nick rolls his head to the side. "Sure is, buddy."

"Then welcome. My name is Estevão and I will have the pleasure of serving you this evening. May I suggest you begin your Caetano's experience with our Salada Caetano? Atop a bed of romaine and arugula we combine lemon, green onions and macadamia nuts with our house blend of tropical herbs and spices…"

"Gimme a dirty martini. Extra dry, straight up, shaken. And make it quick."

"Yes sir."

The tapir brings him the drink, and Nick knocks it back before the waiter has turned away from the table. "Same thing!" he calls out.

The waiter blinks. "Yes sir. Would you like to hear tonight's specials?"

"Nope. Actually, get me two of them. They're going fast."

The waiter bites his lip. "Yes sir."

There's no way Nick can get through this evening sober. Not when this much is at stake.

He looks at his phone: 6:47. Judy isn't the type to run late. Maybe she's taking the coward's way out. Good. They'll be able to avoid the truth together.

Nick takes on the next two martinis with the same urgency. This round, the tapir waits at the booth for him to finish.

"Same thing, sir?"

"You bet. Three of them."

"Are you dining alone tonight, sir?"

"Possibly."

"May I suggest a seat at our bar? I believe they are better equipped to meet your needs."

"No, she got a reservation for a table. We better give her a table. Isn't that how it works?"

The waiter gathers up the empty glasses. "Yes. I would suggest that."

Nick shreds his cocktail napkins with his claws as he waits. 6:54. The booze better kick in soon. He should've ordered something more potent, like a flight of scotch or bourbon. This just seemed like a martini place.

The tapir brings the next three martinis on a silver tray and stands with his hooves behind his back. "I must inform you that these are the last drinks I'm able to serve until you place an order. Would you like to hear tonight's specials, sir?"

"Better give it a moment. It hasn't kicked in yet."

The tapir gives a barely audible snort. "Very well, sir."

Nick downs the first martini but sips the second one slower— he's feeling it in his legs now. The legs always go first for him. And by the time he works on the third, Judy comes rushing towards the booth, out of breath.

My God! Maybe it's all the booze, but she looks amazing! Even in her stupid glasses and that silly flannel shirt! If he could, he'd take both of them off right now. _That_ must be the booze.

"Nick! I'm so glad… I'm so sorry!" She jumps into the seat. Tonight she's wearing a furpiece to cover that awful scar. Good.

"A delivery came late and by the time I could get away it was rush hour and the commute is always so bad on Fridays." She looks around. "Isn't it beautiful! Nobody's going to find us here."

Judy looks at the two empty martini glasses and the third pressed to his lips.

"Hello, Nick."

Those purple eyes… oh my God.

"Howdy, lumberjack. You seen a bunny named Maddy come in? She's running late."

Judy looks at her plaid shirt. "Heh. This is standard at the grocery store. I have to blend in. How did your day go?"

"Came and went."

She sets her purse on the seat. "Okay." Judy lowers her voice. "No more smalltalk. I was going to wait until I completed my mission. But I realized that it's time to finish it tonight, and I might as well tell you now. You have a right to know _everything,_ because you're still my partner. No matter what I did to you or how dangerous it is." She exhales. "You're all I have left."

Bunny, no. Don't go there. _That_ is dangerous.

"Nick." She reaches across the table and squeezes his paw. "I tried to make the world a better place. But… I haven't been one of the good guys."

"Not good?" Nick takes a sip. "What kind of talk is that? You're practically a saint!"

She gives him a sympathetic smile. "You haven't really known me. The real Judy shoots first and asks questions later. She doesn't know when to quit."

"I'm pretty sure that's called 'being assertive', bunny. Or 'persevering', or some other damn noble thing."

"Not when you hurt others along the way. It isn't worth it. I had to find that out the hard way." She sighs and looks as though she's on the verge of tears. "Have you ever done something you thought was for the greater good, but it wasn't? Were you ever so small-minded that you believed the ends could justify the means, no matter how terrible?"

"You know me, Carrots. I've never made a morally questionable move in my life."

"This is very serious." She squeezes his paw tighter. "Have you ever hurt the person you loved the most? Because I did."

 _NO._ He's simply _not_ going to hear this.

"Why don't you come right out with it, bunny? You regret you haven't slept with me."

Judy blinks and lets go of his paw. "What?"

"You know you want it!" Nick knocks back the last of his martini. "But I'm not that easy. Especially when you're dressed like you bat for the other team. Makes me doubt I'll get a run."

"Well that's a way to change the subject! Where did you get the idea…"

"Oh, come on. XX, XY. Male fox times female rabbit. It's a simple multiplication problem that's easily solved."

Judy frowns. "Okay, Slick. Just because I'm a bunny doesn't mean I'll hop in bed at a moment's notice. I've passed up chances with gorgeous, highly eligible mammals. Bunnies have self-control too!"

"Sure they do."

"Can we get back to what happened? I have to leave in an hour!"

"Nope. So we headed to your place or mine?"

"Why would... I mean... " Judy throws her paws up. "I haven't even seen the menu yet!"

"Neither have I. But believe me, I'm trying!"

Her ears fall flat on her head. "Are you drunk, Nicholas?"

"No."

She leans across the table and sniffs his breath. "How many drinks have you had?"

"Well, I started when I was fifteen, so averaging about four a day..."

The tapir waiter returns to the booth with two menus. "Good evening. My name is Estevão and I will have the pleasure…"

"Excuse me," Judy interrupts, "how many drinks has he had?"

"Six, ma'am. Six dirty martinis."

Judy turns to Nick. "Were they any good?"

"Meh. There was a passing resemblance to martinis."

"I'll have the same."

"A dirty martini?" says the waiter.

"No," says Nick. "She'll have six of them."

The waiter gives him a fed up stare.

"Okay. If you insist." She grins. "Six fox-sized martinis."

The waiter looks at Nick, then at Judy, and then back at Nick again. "Certainly, ma'am. I'll bring you your _six_ martinis shortly."

He drops the menus on the table.

Nick flashes a toothy smile. "So. You too admit that you're powerless over alcohol. That's the First Step."

"Wouldn't you know."

"How dare you, rabbit!" Nick tumbles back into the booth. "I may have had a few dark periods of sobriety, but I am fully recovered!"

"Nick. I'm not one to judge, but at the very least you have to accept that you're a heavy drinker."

"Seriously?" He pushes himself up. "Eighty pounds is _not_ heavy."

"It's not good for your health. But I think I'm partially to blame…"

She takes his paw again and looks him in the eye.

"Listen to me. I've hurt you so bad, I doubt we'll ever be friends again. I thought the rules didn't apply to me. To _us._ I sincerely believed that somehow you were stronger than the others, that you could fight it…" Her voice gets choked up. "Which is why... "

He's not hearing this! The words mean nothing!

Nick pulls his paw away. "It's okay, I already forgave you."

"But I haven't told you…"

"Sure you did, under the bridge. That's ancient history."

"That's not..."

"It's no big deal, Carrots. It's over. Long gone."

She shakes her head. "Oh, Nick. You're too drunk for a serious conversation!"

"There's no such thing as too drunk."

The tapir returns with a silver tray. "Your martinis, ma'am." He sets the six of them in front of her and rolls his eyes to ceiling. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you."

Nick eyes the martinis as if they might be filled with poison. There's way too much booze in them for a little bunny. "You're not going to drink all of them?"

"I am."

"Right now?"

She takes a sip.

"Bunny, you're gonna kill yourself!" Nick stands and grabs her wrist in an attempt to pull the glass away from her, but his drunken legs send him tumbling into the walkway. He lands on the carpet with a thud.

"Nick!"

Judy hops out and helps him off the floor. Nick reaches for her seat to support himself, but instead he tips over Judy's purse, sending its contents scattering.

"Nick! Please don't worry! The drinks are virgins!" She gathers her spilled items and places them on the table. "When I made our reservations, I told them I was a recovering alcoholic and that no one should serve me a drop of alcohol. Even if I asked. I can't let anything stop me from finishing my mission."

Nick's jaw drops. "So you…"

"It was so stupid of me to joke around like that." She puts the rest of her items back in her purse. Except for her phone. "Especially after all the awful things I…"

"No. You hustled me." Nick wipes away a tear. "Judy, You hustled me! Just like old times! Just like back in the day!"

He reaches across the table and digs his muzzle into the soft, soft rabbit fur of her neck. "Oh! You really are back!"

She pulls his head close for an awkward hug. "We had some wonderful moments together, didn't we?"

"Had?"

"You'll always be my sly fox." She lets go. "I'd love to be back, Nick. But I can't."

"Why the hell not! You're here! With me! I'll take care of you! Nothing can tear us apart again! I promise!"

"I'm completing my mission tonight." Her shocked look reminds him of Judy in his dream. "I have all I need need to take him down. _I need to make things right._ Which is why you need to hear the truth about your partner. And you need know what I know in case something happens to me. So you can finish it."

"But you'll be Judy after your mission is over? Won't you?"

Her face drains of life. "I need to make things right. Whatever it takes."

Nick's ears drop flat. "What does that…"

Judy sits up straight, ears alert and twisting.

"What is it?"

Nick follows the direction of her ears— she's listening to a group of ocelots pass through the room on their way to the bar. One of them wears a pork pie hat.

"Judy, what's going on?"

She grabs her purse and bolts. Away from the ocelots.

"Carrots!"

Oh Judy, you left your phone behind! Nick grabs it and chases after her, but his legs have decided not to cooperate. He reaches at the sides of tables and the trunks of palm trees in an attempt to send himself on a straight course.

"Carrots! You can't just skip the check like that! You have to forget your wallet first!"

* * *

The walkway outside Caetano's is lined with tall vireya bushes, and Nick follows her scent down to the main road and the bus stop. But from there it disperses into the night air. She must have caught a bus just minutes earlier.

He slumps on the bench and looks at her phone. She's really going to regret leaving this behind. He taps the home button— it's off.

Nick turns it on.

The phone seems like it's never been used— there are no photos, no downloaded apps, no web history. Did she just buy this? It doesn't look brand new.

He checks the settings: It's registered to someone named George Catlan.

Where did you get this phone, Carrots?

* * *

The phone sends a signal to the local cell towers, creating a record in a database as it comes online. Nick takes the bus to the Fruit Market station, and the records show George Catlan's phone moving across the Rainforest District, and then to Nick's apartment on the edge of Downtown.


	12. Chapter 12

Judy changes out of her work clothes and into the black dress she wore the night of the car accident— the last time he saw her. It seems appropriately symbolic. She opens the kitchen cabinet and takes out the binder with the pages she's printed out over the weeks at the Meadowlands public library.

Here is the investigation all in one place. All her notes, her research, her transcripts from the carrot pen.

Tonight, former Officer Judy Hopps will make the world a better place.

She takes out another set of papers from the binder and stuffs them into a large envelope. Inside is her confession and the pages with everything she tried to tell Nick at dinner:

* * *

 _The Ermine's name is Thomas Jerome Coates. Goes by Thom. He's 47 years old and lives at 6980 Moleholland Drive, up on the ridge that separates Savannah Central from the Rainforest District. He owns an architecture firm and sits on the Board of Directors of his father's company, Royall-Coates Construction._

 _And for years he's found ways to manipulate markets to his advantage._

 _Coates hosts the black tie fundraisers for the police union, one of the reasons why he's been able to operate under the radar for so long. Remember me telling you about my climate training at the Academy? That's the T.J. Coates Climate Simulator. The ZPD_ loves _him. Or his money, rather._

 _When we left the museum, Coates and his ocelot driver Salvador took me straight to his house. He'd fixed up the guest cottage by the pool, and he told me that I could stay as long as I wanted and leave whenever I wanted. Of course it was a lie— he would turn on me the second I left his sight. And he came up with a pretty plausible backstory for keeping me with him: I was a former addict who was detoxing and turning my life around under his supervision._

 _I would eat dinner with him, and he'd tell me again and again how I was the first cop to truly_ impress _him. The slash on the face was supposed to scare me off his trail, which apparently worked for him in the past. But even without a police badge, I kept on pursuing the Night Howlers. He thought that was outstanding, and that's why he created the plan for Bellwether to spare my life._

 _Coates wanted to keep me around as his own private detective, to do his dirty work for him like Claude and Salvador do._ _Again and again, I turned down his offers. He wouldn't give up. Not surprisingly, he also tried to seduce me, many times. But darnit it, Nick, I_ _resisted_. _Despite everything, I'm a professional._

 _He took care to manage what I saw and heard, but bit by bit I've been able to put together why he was so willing to bankroll Bellwether:_

 _Coates has major interests in two real estate companies: one that sells homes exclusively to prey and its sister company that sells exclusively to predators. It's illegal, but they take advantage of loopholes in the law._

 _During times of predator/prey tension, the prey company buys up the properties of scared homeowners and helps them relocate to all-prey neighborhoods. Since the worried prey were usually surrounded by predators, the company then sells those same properties to their predator customers at a significant markup (since all-prey and all-predator neighborhoods are seen as safer)._

 _If Zootopia is peaceful, Coates' real estate companies aren't nearly as profitable. Their business model literally runs on fear, and he and Bellwether were perfect for each other._

 _Everything changed after they caught Bellwether— Coates didn't say as much to me, and Claude and Salvador started to patrol the grounds. They were terrified that I was going to escape and rat them out._

 _I would have loved to rat them out, but I had so little hard evidence— I had a little bit from the carrot pen, but back then I didn't even know Coates' last name! Given how carefully they watched me, it looked like I was going to be the detoxing house guest forever._

 _And then came a miracle._

 _Coates had a weakness— he liked to use me as a prop. His trophy. He would bring me to his board meetings, basically as eye candy to make the other members envious, and then he'd have me sit out in the reception area while they did business. They never caught on that I was Judy Hopps. The famous bunny cop was long dead, after all, and I was Flora Earsby, recovering drug addict from Deep River Burrow. If I told them that I was really Judy, they'd believe I was hallucinating._

 _(Speaking of drugs, Coates' other weakness is cocaine. And bleaching his fur white. Stoats only go white in the winter, but he insists on creating the illusion that he's white all the time. Even tells other mammals that it's in his genes. That lying bastard.)_

 _But one night he had to go to some sort of meeting, and I left in the limo with Coates and Salvador. As we were rounding one of the curves on Moleholland Drive, another car sideswiped us and sent the limo into a ditch. In the chaos that followed, I escaped._

 _It would take at least another ten pages if I told you everything that happened after the crash— how I got my job at the Hayvenhurst Co-op, how I uncovered out his name and his scam and got ahold of the paperwork that proves it._

 _One thing I'm really proud of, though— I discovered that Coates has access to the PRIZM database of cellphone data, which is how he read my texts and found me on the highway to Zootopia. He can track you down if you associate a phone with your real name in any way. So I bought a cheap phone and registered it to a fake bobcat detective named George Catlan. Even created a Muzzlebook page for Catlan and everything. I could investigate Coates behind an alias, only turning on the phone when I was in a safe location where his thugs couldn't nab "him"._

 _Isn't that clever? Probably not clever enough for you, Mr. Hustler._

 _The important thing is this:_

 _If, by the time you're reading this, you haven't heard anything else from me, go straight to the ZPD. Demand to speak to Chief Bogo. Say that you found new evidence from the Bellwether investigation. Show them these documents as proof._

 _And to back you up, I'm returning something of yours I borrowed. It has all the original recordings, and I also made copies on a thumb drive._

 _I only hope my work is enough._

* * *

Judy slides the carrot pen into the envelope and seals it.

Her Zuber ride first drops her off at the post office, where she mails the envelope to Nick's address from his tax returns. Then the Zuber drops her off in the plaza in front of the ZPD.

"This will only take a few seconds," she tells the driver.

* * *

Clawhauser slumps over his desk, playing a game on his phone that involves matching three donuts in a row. Night shifts are the worst. So few mammals need to do face to face business with the department after hours, and the cops usually use the back entrances. At least his Donut Crush game is improving.

A female rabbit in an evening dress walks across the empty lobby, her footsteps echoing. Where has he seen her before? She looks so familiar. Was she the bunny who filed that noise complaint the other day?

He leans over the desk. "Welcome to the ZPD, ma'am! How can we help you on this lovely evening?"

The rabbit holds up a thick binder. "This needs to go to Chief Bogo immediately."

That voice is _so_ familiar. And her face, too. But it wasn't the bunny from last week. It's almost like… no, it couldn't possibly be.

"Alright." Clawhauser takes the binder. "Is Chief Bogo expecting this?"

"No. Please make sure that he gets it. It's urgent."

The rabbit turns around and Clawhauser catches a good whiff of her scent….

A shiver runs down his back. It's a ghost! But ghosts don't carry real binders...

"Judy!"

The bunny breaks into a run. It's her!

"Judy! Hopps! You're alive! Judy!"

He struggles to the door, but she's far too fast for him. He sees her climb into a parked car, which speeds off into the streets of downtown.

* * *

Clawhauser bursts into Bogo's office. "It's Judy! She's here! She's here!"

The Chief looks up from a stack of paperwork. "What are you caterwauling about, Clawhauser?"

"Officer Hopps is alive! She was just here in the lobby!"

Deep ridges form across Bogo's brow, and his eyes drift toward the wall. "I'm not going to talk about Judy. We're not going to talk about Judy at all."

"She's not dead, Chief! I just saw her! I smelled her!"

"Benjamin." Bogo folds his hooves and whispers: "I see her sometimes in Headquarters, too. When no one's around. We all miss Officer Hopps."

"She was actually here! C'mon, I'll show you!"

They stand in the central communications room and play the CCTV tapes:

In the grainy black and white video, a bunny walks in and hands Clawhauser a binder. He calls out to her, and she runs.

"It could be," murmurs the Chief. "It's such a slim chance. But the resemblance is there. Where's the binder?"

At the reception desk, Bogo flips through the first pages. His eyes grow wide, and then he takes off his reading glasses and covers his face.

"Oh… oh God help us."

* * *

Nick collapses on his bed, not even bothering to take off his pants, tie, or dress shirt. He's asleep almost instantly.

But that phone Judy had her in purse keeps ringing. It rings again and again, interrupting his drunken sleep too many times for comfort. Somebody ought to do something about it! But since he's the only one here, he'll have to be the one to do it.

He fumbles for the phone and somehow manages to tap the Accept button. "Hrwro."

"George Catlan?" says an unfamiliar voice.

"Mmmph," says Nick.

"Is this George Catlan speaking?"

"Hrm."

"This is?"

"Hrhhhh."

Nick tries to say hello for several more minutes until he realizes that the caller hung up. Oh well. Back to some more delicious sleep.

* * *

The Zuber driver handles the twists and turns of Moleholland Drive at a slow, safe speed. The road is sits right on the edge of a cliff, and the guardrail is full of dings and dents from previous car crashes that didn't end well.

Judy pays attention to her breath: Breathe in. Breathe out. She can handle whatever might happen. To see the look on his face… that alone will almost make everything worth it.

The car's headlights send a narrow beam into the darkness. This should be the curve...

Judy sits up and leans toward the armadillo driver: "Pull over here."

"But this isn't the address!"

"There's a shortcut."

It will make for a better entrance if he doesn't hear a car engine in his driveway.

The car pulls off into the narrow shoulder at the base of a hill. Judy tips the driver, steps out into the brisk night air, and starts to climb the stone steps cut into hill. The lights of downtown glow behind her, a world removed from the one she's about to enter.

The steps take her through a brushy grove of scrub forest. At the crest of the hill, Coates' sleek, expansive home comes into view. There's the pool with its underwater lights, the guest house in the shadows. Exactly like it was when she lived here.

Instinct tells her to run. Leave this place now, little bunny, it isn't worth it...

But she won't. She's come too far to quit. Time for the final chapter.

The lights are out in the house, both in the master bedroom and in Salvador and Claude's quarters. Coates is asleep. Good— that means she'll have the pleasure of waking him up, too.

Judy walks around the edge of the pool until she reaches the main entrance. The solid glass doors are at least ten feet high.

She rings the doorbell.

* * *

Nick dreams that someone has broken into his apartment and is pulling him out of his bed. How strange is that!

But then he wakes up to discover that his dream is coming true— two mammals, one porcine, one feline, have thrown back the covers and are lifting him up. Nick digs his claws into the bedsheets.

"W-w-wait a second!"

His claws merely rip through the sheets as they lift him into the air and drag him across the floor by his limbs.

"You're coming with us, Catlan!"

"Wait… what?"

The mammals drag him down the stairs of the rickety tenement building, Nick's feet hitting each step.

"Hold on, I'm missing something. Start over from the beginning, will you. And gimme an aspirin! I'm hung over like you wouldn't believe..."

"Shut up!"

His feet hit the curb, and then asphalt. One of the mammals shoves Nick into the back seat of a car, and then he joins him. The other turns the key in the ignition and peels out.

"Hey now!" Nick rubs his aching forehead. "I don't mind being kidnapped every now and then, but I like to know who's doing it. So I know who to make the ransom check out to. Just trying to be considerate!"

"You know why you're here," says the warthog beside him.

"Oh, I do?" Nick rests his feet on the back of the seat in front of him and crosses his limbs. "So what exactly did I do?"

"You're George Catlan," says the ocelot behind the wheel.

"George _Cat_ -lan?" Nick sits up and points to his nose. "Look at this! You see this muzzle? This ain't no feline face, buddy! Look at the state of this fur! Do I _look_ like I have good grooming skills? You got the wrong mammal!"

"You have George Catlan's phone," says the warthog. "You _answer_ George Catlan's phone. But you say you're not George Catlan. Sure." He laughs caustically. "I'll believe it."

The phone Judy left behind… oh God, Carrots. What did you get involved with?

The car drives under streetlamp, revealing the warthog pointing a gun at Nick's chest.

His mouth goes dry.

Okay, then. It's not looking good, but it's not over yet. There's still a way he can stay alive:

Keep talking.


	13. Chapter 13

Nick leans back in his best attempt to appear relaxed and unfazed by the warthog's gun. "Look, fellas. I hate to break it to you, but you made a pretty big mistake. My name isn't George Catlan. It's Roger Thornpaw. I'm an advertising executive. Check the cards in my back pocket."

The warthog shoots the ocelot a look.

"Careful," says the ocelot.

Holding tight to the gun, the warthog pushes Nick forward with his hoof and fishes out the cards.

"Huh." The warthog holds a card to the window and reads it by the light of the streetlamps. "Says 'Roger Thornpaw'."

"You're literate! I love you guys already!"

"Could be a ruse," says the ocelot. "Search his wallet."

The warthog flips through the hundreds in cash Nick keeps in lieu of a checking account. "No ID. Tons of cash, though."

"Oh drat!" Nick snaps his fingers. "Must have left my ID back at the restaurant." Thank God he forgot to put in one of his fake IDs before he left the house. It would be disastrous if he claimed to be multiple mammals at once.

The warthog tosses him his wallet. "If you ain't Catlan, how come you have his phone?"

"Phone?" Nick takes it out. "This is most certainly _my_ phone! What, you think I'd steal a phone just because I'm a fox?"

He turns the phone on and bugs his eyes in feigned surprise.

"This isn't my lock screen." He sets the phone down on the seat. "This isn't my phone at all. Sheesh. Oh boy. I was uh... well, to put it delicately, I was completely wasted earlier this evening. I must have picked it up from the wrong table. Hey, would you guys mind calling the restaurant to see..."

The warthog grabs the phone away. "You're _not_ Catlan."

"Never was, never will be. I'm Roger Thornpaw."

They stop at a red light.

"So…" Nick drapes himself across the back of the seat, eyeing the gun. "Now that we've established who I am, how about we go our separate ways? I'll forget about you and your almost guaranteed to be unlicensed handgun, and you'll forget about me. Sound good?"

"No chance, fox." The ocelot looks at him through the rear view mirror. "We're picking up whoever's got Catlan's phone."

"Except the owner of that phone is out in the city somewhere. Not in this car. Maybe I could help you find him?"

Silence.

The car drives on into the night, merging onto the freeway that surrounds downtown.

What to do, what to do… They may have bought that he's Roger Thornpaw, advertising executive. So keep playing the Thornpaw character. How would Thornpaw handle this? How could Thornpaw scam two hitmammals? Nick's mind races.

"Are you two trustworthy?" he says.

The ocelot and warthog glance at each other.

"I'm perfectly serious. Are you trustworthy? Seems like your boss trusts you with a lot of dangerous jobs. I like that. Shows you have guts."

"Where's this going, fox?" The warthog pushes the gun to Nick's chest, and Nick holds up his paws.

"Hey! Careful now! I'm trying to get you in on the take! I need partners!"

The warthog lowers the gun. "What take?"

"Point that thing away from me and I'll talk."

"Don't let him mess with you," growls the ocelot.

"I'm not messing with him. Honestly! I'm offering one or both of you two gentlemammals a slice of the pie."

"A slice of what?" says the warthog.

"Point it to the floor first."

The warthog's eyes glaze over, apparently in thought. "You try any funny business and I'll blow your brains out!"

And then he points the gun to the floor. A grin creeps across Nick's face. The armed warthog is _playable_.

"Okay." Nick leans back, his confidence returning. This is just another con. Just your average hustle. Don't think about the stakes. Just go with it.

"A little backstory first. I'm a VP of Advertising at the Palm Hotel Casino. The title sounds great— Vice President and all— but they've got me doing rinky-dink ad buys that pay pennies. I barely take anything home. You saw where I'm living, you get the picture."

He taps his claws on the back of the seat, allowing the story to take shape.

"An old friend of mine, also a fox, happens to be a croupier on the roulette tables. He's got a perfect record: no criminal history, no traffic tickets, nothing. But his pay is crap, to say the least. Well, you know how foxes are— always scheming up something. And we found us a way to cut into the vig. You ever heard of a scam called 'past posting'?"

"That doesn't work anymore!" The ocelot glares at him from the rear view mirror. "I go to the Palm like three times a month. They've got cameras everywhere, watching your paws! You try to make a bet after time is called and they'll kick you out in seconds!"

"A valid point, my friend. You're a smart cat." Nick winks at him. " _One_ mammal posting a late bet is just asking to be nabbed. But when _two_ mammals work together, two mammals you'd never suspect would be in cahoots, then anything is possible. In our case, one is the gambler and one is the dealer.

"There's just one teensy problem." Nick leans in toward the warthog. "If a fox keeps winning at a roulette wheel where the croupier is _also_ a fox, the house is going to catch on. I need mammals of other species to get in, and most of my non-fox buddies wouldn't be caught dead in a scam. I need tough mammals who won't go to the cops. Smart, too. Mammals who live by their own rules and take big risks. Like you guys."

"So how does this all work?" The warthog shifts his weight toward Nick. "How much did you get out of it?"

"You saw my wallet just then?"

"Yeah."

"That's _all_ from the scam."

The warthog nods slowly. "How does it work?"

He's hooked. Good God, Nicholas P. Wilde the popsicle hustler just hooked a hitmammal! He'd note this momentous occasion in his hustler diary if he kept such a thing.

"I'll tell you. In just a second. First I gotta know if you're in or not. I can't just let anyone..."

"C'mon." The ocelot turns his head. "Don't listen to this creep. He's full of it!"

"With all due respect, I'm not full of anything. This is legitimate offer for a very illegitimate but lucrative business. Are you in?"

The warthog cracks a smile. "Eh, sure, why not. What's there to lose?"

"You'll get kicked out of the casino!" says the ocelot.

"I always lose anyway! Big deal!" He leans against the back of the seat and twirls the gun. "Okay fox, what's the catch?"

Nick smiles a smug grin. "I take it you know the basics of roulette."

"Sure."

"So you place a bet. The croupier spins the wheel. Right before he places the dolly on the winning number, you signal to him by wiggling your left ear, and then without making eye contact, you use Gondorff's Gambit."

Nick sits back and crosses his limbs.

"And?" says the ocelot.

"And then you collect your chips!"

"Yeah but… what's Gondorff's Gambit?"

Nick gives a look of mock concern. "I thought every serious gambler knew about Gondorff's Gambit!"

"I don't! What is it!"

He sighs. "It's a way of changing your bet. Really sneaky, really hard to explain in words. It's better if I show you."

"Okay. So show me!"

"I can't show you in a car. We need a table and something that can simulate a roulette wheel. There's a bar not too far from here…"

"No!" The ocelot snarls. "This bastard's trying to escape!"

The warthog sits up and aims the gun at Nick.

"Hey now! You think just because I'm a fox…"

"Shut up! I don't care if you're George Catlan or Thornpaw or whoever. You're not leaving my sight until you're delivered! Got it, Claude?"

"Yup."

Nick shrugs his shoulders at the warthog. "I'll show you Gondorff's Gambit once I get things cleared up with your boss, okay?"

"Sure. Fine."

Well, it was worth a shot. In hindsight, it was too obvious a hustle. Far too obvious that he was trying to change the setting. Nick maintains his smug grin and hopes the others can't smell his fear.

* * *

Judy waits on the Ermine's doorstep for centuries. The house never seemed so huge when she stayed here. Nor so cold and empty. Is Bogo reading the report now? Is the ZPD sending backup? She wrote on the first page that she'd be waiting for them on Moleholland Drive tonight.

She stares at the security camera— once he gets out of bed, he'll check the monitor and see her face.

Coming here alone wasn't the smartest move. But… this is _her_ problem. She created it. She's going to clean it up. She _will_ do it. And if something happens to her in the process, then well...

A single light turns on. One by one, the other lights turn on in the cavernous living room. A white figure in a red velvet smoking jacket walks toward the glass door.

Judy's throat tightens.

 _You know him. You know how he acts. You are trained to deal with dangerous mammals. You are an officer of the law._

 _Were._

The Ermine has his usual collected look, as if he were addressing royalty. He presses a button to talk through the speaker:

"Ms. Hopps. How lovely to see you again. What brings you here in the middle of the night? Could you be having second thoughts about running off?"

"I'm here to make things right, Thom."

The Ermine raises an eyebrow at the sound of his name. "I don't recall us being on a first-name basis. What breeds this sudden familiarity?"

"I know who you are, and I know what you've done to our city. And tonight, Thomas Jerome Coates, I'm going to put an end to it!"

He chuckles. "Those are rather harsh words from someone dressed for a soiree. Do you suggest that you intend to do _harm_ to me?"

"Oh, I'm not suggesting! I'm _guaranteeing_."

"Then I should remind you that this is bulletproof glass, and at the moment, I have no reason to keep you alive other than for my own personal amusement."

He makes a valid point, but it's moot. He doesn't know what weapon she's about to use against him. Judy grins.

"No reason? You wouldn't want to add the murder of Officer Judy Hopps to your list of charges."

"I remind you that Judy Hopps is dead. We killed her together."

"Not any more. Because twenty minutes ago, I gave a binder of incriminating evidence to Sargeant Clawhauser of the Zootopia Police Department. He recognized me, Thom. Judy's come back to life!"

The Ermine chuckles softly. "You're bluffing, Ms. Hopps. You'd never risk exposing your involvement in my affairs."

"So you think."

He yawns. "I confess this conversation is boring me. Care to step inside to discuss something more engaging?"

"I gave the ZPD everything. Everything I did, everything you did. From the time I left Bunnyburrow to the moment I connected you to your little real estate scheme. I've got photo evidence, copies of documents, audio recordings, audio transcripts, and every tiny detail that can prove why and how you were bankrolling Bellwether's conspiracy. It's all the hooves of Chief Bogo right this minute."

The Ermine's face goes blank.

"Don't think you can donate your way out of it this time, Thom. An Ƶ86,000 annual donation to the police union can't protect you anymore. Not when the bunny who took down Lionheart comes back from the dead to take _you_ down!"

For a split second, fear flashes across the Ermine's face.

She got him.

That's what she wanted. That's why she had to come here tonight— to see that smooth facade finally broken. Weeks and weeks of work, damage that can never be undone… but she got the bad guy. That's what counts.

The Ermine regains his composure and takes a long breath. "You realize they'll put you in jail too."

"I know. I'm ready to go."

"And Officer Hopps, the first rabbit police officer, is satisfied with being a prisoner?"

She bites her lower lip. "It's the only thing that's right."

"Then you are more stupid than I imagined." The Ermine holds out a key card, unlocking the door.

Judy hops back and readies her foot, but the Ermine is as fast as she is— he grabs her by the ears, and the sudden pain throws off her kick. He tosses her into the house.

She charges at him, paws going for his neck … but the Ermine draws a small handgun from his jacket pocket. She skids to a stop.

"You have gumption, Ms. Hopps, but your planning skills are in dire need of improvement. By sending the police my way, I now have _very_ little motivation to keep you alive."

"But first degree murder…"

"Already committed. And yours will be nothing a talented lawyer can't take care of. An intruder in the middle of the night? Why, that's self-defense."

Oh God, think! Think! Stall him! Change the subject! Disarm him somehow! Just think!

"Thom…" Her voice wavers. "Thom, listen to me. You are _so_ talented. You're smart, you're wealthy, you're attractive… why do you do this? What do you gain from manipulating an entire city? Why can't you use your talents to _help_ Zootopia?"

He smiles, exposing his tiny, sharp teeth. "Why don't I help the city? Because I haven't the slightest interest in doing so. It's as simple as that."

A car climbs the steep driveway and shines its headlights into the living room. The Ermine spins in alarm, still aiming the gun at Judy.

The car parks next to the door. Three mammals step out.

"It's not your police." The Ermine relaxes. "It's Salvador and Claude. They've captured Catlan."

"Catlan?"

"The detective you hired. We picked up his phone signal earlier this evening. Rather careless of him after all the trouble he went to conceal it."

Judy smiles weakly. "George Catlan's not real. I made him up to get you off my tail."

"Someone seems to think he's Catlan. Look."

She squints, trying to overcome her poor night vision: Claude holds a gun to the back of a smaller mammal, a fox in a dress shirt and tie...

"Oh no, Nick!" Judy rushes to the door and spins around, covering its metal latch with her body. "Oh no, oh no!"

The Ermine approaches her with the gun. "Do you mean that _Mr. Wilde_ is George Catlan?"

"Do whatever you want to me, but don't you dare touch him! He's innocent! I don't know how you found him!"

Salvador unlocks the door with his card and pushes it open, shoving Judy out of the way. Nick looks up and meets her eyes. His ears perk up—

"Well hey there, Fluff! Looks like you got an invite, too! Aren't we popular!"

"No jokes, Nick! No jokes!"

"Let him enjoy himself." The Ermine motions to his guards, and they take their positions in the corners of the room. "You won't be spending time together in the future, I can assure you."

Judy buries herself in Nick's chest, and he hugs her tight. "Oh bunny, I'm so happy…"

"You have to get out of here! The police are coming and they'll arrest him and me… oh Clawhauser did you give the binder to Bogo, did you do it, Clawhauser…"

"What binder? Why are you about to be arrested?" Nick points to the Ermine. "And who's this weasel? Why is he pointing a gun at me? Why is everyone around here so damn trigger happy?"

"He doesn't know?" The Ermine steps forward.

"What don't I know?"

Judy tries to speak, but no air comes out. This is not the time. Later, Nick. Not now. She shakes her head...

"You never told Mr. Wilde about us? About what happened?"

All she can do is squeeze Nick tighter.

"Um?" Nick scowls. "Who are you again? Think I missed that."

The Ermine cracks a grin. "This should be fascinating to watch." He paces around them. "Let me tell you a story, Mr. Wilde."


	14. Chapter 14

Nick strokes the back of Judy's head and keeps his eyes fixed on the thin white stoat. "Sorry," he says, "I'm not exactly in the mood for stories."

"They say all cops have a price." The stoat taps the barrel of his gun in his left paw. "In my experience, this is invariably true. A few well-placed bribes here and there, and one can, pardon the stereotype, weasel their way out of anything. But not with Officer Hopps."

He stops pacing and sneers at her. "Not her. Oh no. She's incorruptible. Always determined to bring evildoers to justice and make the world a better place. It appeared she would become quite the threat to my operations, especially after she stumbled on the Night Howlers. But it turned out that Officer Hopps _can_ be bought. And I purchased her at her asking price. Can you guess what that was, Mr. Wilde?"

"Carrots, what the hell is he talking about?"

Judy presses against Nick's chest and looks up. "Don't listen to him! He's just saying things to try to hurt you!"

"In the martial art of jujutzoo, one uses their opponent's strength against them. That is precisely how I handled Ms. Hopps. I appealed to her sense of justice and righteousness, as well as her well-known inability to conduct herself within the established rules of policing. I presented her with inside access to the case of a lifetime. She simply couldn't refuse it."

The stoat grins. "But by taking it on, she created enough damage to destroy her life and her career all by herself. Consequently, I have taken down one of my greatest opponents in Zootopia."

Judy lurches and tries to pull away from Nick, swinging her fist. "You certainly have _not!_ The police will be here at any minute, Thom Coates!" Nick struggles to keep her from rushing the stoat.

Coates leans into her face, holding the gun to her chin. "Would you lie to the ZPD to protect yourself in the presence of Mr. Wilde? Really, would you?"

She stops resisting.

Oh God. The weasel said something true.

"Carrots, what does he mean?"

Judy stares at him dully. "I'll explain everything when the police get here."

It's _that._ No. He can't hear it. He couldn't hear it at dinner when he was drunk, and _swear to God_ he will not hear it when he's sober.

"You don't have to tell me." Nick gives her a reassuring pat. "I trust you, bunny. You make good decisions."

"Does she?" Coates pulls a lounge chair toward them and sits. "Did she make a good decision when she agreed to fake her own death? Did she make a good decision when she allowed another cottontail to die in her place? Mauled by a certain fox in this room?"

Judy lets go of Nick and freezes with an wide-eyed stare. The instinctual freeze of prey.

Her reaction doesn't prove that she did _that_. She's just scared. He's scared too. They're both scared.

 _You're justifying. You know the truth. You won't admit it._

"Yes, Mr. Wilde." Coates crosses his legs. "She was there to ensure that you went sava—"

"Not true. Not true at all!" Nick faces Coates. "Judy did no such thing. She wouldn't do it to _me_. You got me confused with another fox."

 _You're lying to protect yourself. She made you go savage._

"But Judy Hopps wouldn't… not after… I'm her dumb fox. She's my sly bunny. She wouldn't hurt her dumb fox!"

 _Of course she would. They always end up hurting you. Everyone you let into your life. It's the same story over and over._

"No, it's not the same because…"

 _You're baring your soul to the world. Stop doing that. Play it cool._

Nick exhales and closes his eyes. "She did not make me go savage. I'll prove it."

"Really?" Coates leans back in the chair, cupping a paw underneath his chin. He blinks slowly. "Ask her."

"Excuse me?"

"Go ahead. She's extremely honest. Honest to a fault."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Alright, Carrots. This loser is a lunatic. Tell him the truth. You were there, I was there. I told you to put the bluebe…"

Judy shakes her head. No. A tear runs down her cheek.

His heart pounds.

"Carrots! Tell me he's lying!"

She keeps shaking her head.

"Judy!" Nick grabs her shoulders. "Tell me the truth! He's lying! He's a liar! Tell me the truth! Tell me he's lying! Please!"

She wipes away her tears and looks at him like a child about to be punished. "I thought…" she whispers, "you were so strong… you could fight it."

And there it is. It's out in the open. No going back now.

Nick senses his knees giving way and he steadies himself. No booze to allow him to escape. He's trapped.

Judy looks off to the side and weeps.

 _You idiot fox. You got exactly what you deserve, you piece of trash. There's no way she could understand you. She used you from the beginning because that's what you are— a worthless mark._

"Ms. Hopps forced you to eat a rabbit, you know." Coates taps the barrel of the gun. "Quite unsavory behavior if you ask me. She sent you to a research hospital, where you spent days in isolation, tethered and muzzled and…"

"Muzzled?"

"Oh yes. Haven't you seen the pictures? They secured your muzzle when they led you out of the museum. One moment." He digs in his pants pocket.

" _Muzzled?_ "

Judy bends over and covers her face.

The stoat holds up his phone to Nick's face: It's a photo of a fox on all fours, unrecognizable if it weren't for the shirt and tie. Two ZPD officers lead him by a leash into the back of a police van.

They muzzled him. The entire city saw him in a muzzle.

 _Oh God, Carrots. Why did you have to… oh God. Of all the things… of all the things you could have done! Not after I told you… not after I told you..._

His eyes unfocus. The world loses its color. The light drains away until the living room is lost in darkness.

"Nick…" A rabbit is talking to him from some distant place. "...I'm so sorry. Nick, listen to me. Please listen to me: _I'm sorry I put you in a muzzle._ It's the worst thing I could have done, and I forgot that's what they did to savage mammals. I honestly forgot." Her voice becomes more urgent: "Would you believe me if I said it was the biggest regret of my life? I will do _anything_ to make it up to you. If you want to me to leave forever, I'll do it. No questions asked. I understand. After we get out of here, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make good…"

He recognizes who is speaking and what she's talking about.

"No you won't!" He jerks her around and grabs her shoulders tight. "You… you… prey animal! You don't know what that meant to me!"

The rage Nick kept locked away for over two decades spills out. His entire body burns, and he snarls, the skin of his muzzle crinkling. His voice turns hoarse:

"I bet you had a lot of _fun_ , didn't you, rabbit!"

He squeezes her shoulders tighter and tighter, and he lowers his exposed teeth to her face: "I bet you had a good laugh about it! Didn't you laugh! _Didn't you_?"

Judy screams. Not the scream of a civilized mammal, but the pathetic, pleading scream of a rabbit caught by a predator. A prey's last line of defense.

God, what an obnoxious noise. Listen to her— it's _so_ fake! Just another hustle. She doesn't mean any of it! She never meant a thing!

Nick reaches back and slaps her face so hard that she tumbles to her side and skids several feet across the floor.

Judy does not get up. She doesn't even move.

His anger vanishes. He covers his gaping mouth with his paw:

 _You sick bastard. You killed her. You just killed Officer Hopps._

And then he sees the flashbulbs of the cameras in the Museum. He sees her grave in the Meadowlands. He feels the coarse, worn-out carpet wet with his tears, and he feels her paw pressing against his back. He hears himself cry and whisper: "You came back!"

He stands with his paws out, hunched over, struck by the horror in front of him.

The thin white stoat is grinning from his lounge chair. It's obvious now that he was egging Nick on. Spared him from doing the dirty work.

 _What have I done..._

He steps tentatively toward her body, her knees drawn into her chest. Is she breathing?

Nick kneels and holds his paw over her tiny nose: She's breathing. Just unconscious.

But she's still alive. His bunny... what once was his bunny... is still alive.

 _Thank God. Oh thank God. Maybe I need a muzzle after all._

He lets his head fall.

 _Why did you… of all the things… of all the mammals... how did_ you _become like everyone else? How?_

Judy blinks and groans. She lifts her paw to her face and struggles to push herself up.

"I'm getting rather bored of this drama." The stoat signals to his guards. "Hurry. Claude, take care of them before the police arrive. Use the silencer."

"It needs to be cleaned... "

"Well then clean it!"

He snarls at the warthog— wait, the stoat's back is turned! It's a clear shot to the door!

Nick makes a mad dash for the glass wall and yanks on the latch. It doesn't budge. Locked from the inside?

The ocelot pounces on his back, throwing him onto the floor.

* * *

Chief Bogo and Clawhauser flip through the dozens of papers in Judy's binder, now spread out over Bogo's desk.

"But there must be something that proves this came from a living Judy Hopps!" Bogo takes off his glasses and rubs his face. "Otherwise this is hearsay. These allegations could ruin the reputations of two prominent mammals!"

"That's all there is!" Clawhauser lifts up several sheets in exasperation. "But we have to do something, Chief! If she really went to his house, she's probably in a lot of danger!"

"You know we can't act without probable cause! We could try for a search warrant, but unless we can convince the prosecutor that rabbits are coming back from the dead, we can do nothing!"

One of the pages sticks to Clawhauser's claw, and he pulls it off with the other paw. "Wait a second… Chief! Chief! I got it!"

He leans over the desk and reads out loud: "If you have any doubts that this is the real Judy Hopps, here are several anecdotes only mammals working at the ZPD would know. Last June, I entered Chief Bogo's office without knocking and discovered him dancing and lipsyncing to Gazelle while wearing…"

"Give me that!" Bogo reads the other anecdotes and snorts. "This may not be good enough for the prosecutor, but it's good enough for me."

He stands. "Alert dispatch. Orders to arrest Thomas Jerome Coates, stoat, and Judith Laverne Hopps, Eastern cottontail, for conspiracy. We're going in."

* * *

The guards toss Nick and Judy down a dark set of stairs. Nick lands on his stomach and lifts his head— a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling reveals that this is a wine cellar with jagged walls cut into the stone of the mountain.

He gets onto his feet and sees Judy huddled against the opposite wall. Her eyes briefly meet his, and he looks away.

"Are you alright?" she whispers.

"Am I alright? Am I _alright?_ Sure. I'm doing _great_." Nick feels the wall until he finds a spot smooth enough to lean on. "You destroyed the most sincere form of happiness I've ever known, the only true friendship I've had in my adult life, and now we're going to be killed. Never been better."

"I'm so sorry, Nick. You precious fox… I never wanted you to end up like this! I'd do anything in my power to change it but… it's too late. They trapped us." Judy stares at the stone floor. "I wish I were already dead."

Nick shakes his head. "You _disgust_ me! You really disgust me, rabbit! Listen to yourself! You're supposed to be the one giving the pep talks here. You're supposed to be propping _me_ up." He paces. "Goddammit, I wish we never met. Why the hell did you have to fall for such a lamebrained con, anyway? 'My little boy wants to be an elephant'... I mean, really!"

"You were very convincing." Judy sighs. "You don't deserve to be caught up in this mess."

"So _now_ you've come to that realization? After you muzzled me and we're seconds away from death?"

"If I could undo it, I would, Nick. But it can't be undone."

"Huh, isn't _that_ a groundbreaking insight. You should've been a philosopher instead of a cop."

"I thought maybe I could undo it if I confronted him face to face, if I made him feel the fear he's made so many other mammals feel… Thom's right. I'm a reckless cop and a loose cannon and a terrible planner. I've destroyed my career, my family, my friends, you…"

"Ugh, such melodrama! I have zero tolerance for self pity."

She cracks the tiniest hint of a smile. "Except for when you pity yourself. You have a lot of experience."

"Completely beside the point! Look— you've got everything going for you. If we make it out of here alive, which I doubt, your weasel will get the book thrown at him and you'll get a plea deal because even though you went vigilante, you never stopped trying to be a cop. Bogo will respect that and the media will _love_ you. You'll get interviews for thousands of dollars a pop. Sure, the ZPD will probably never hire you back, but you can start over as a private detective."

Nick stops pacing and faces her, taking care not to look at those eyes. "But then there's me. I'm not gonna be in this picture, nuh uh. I'm _done_ with you, bunny. How am supposed to trust you again? How?"

"I don't know…"

"See? See how bleak things are looking for me? What am I supposed to do with my life when you're out of it?"

"You'll do what you always do, Nick." Judy keeps her face to the floor. "You'll hide from your problems. You'll make witty and sarcastic comments and drink until your liver fails. Until then, you'll invent new scams and better hustles. Some day you'll forget about your dumb bunny."

"But what if I don't want to forget!" he shouts.

The unexpected emotion rises in his throat, and there's no tamping it down: "I loved you, Judy! My God, I loved you like I never… you were the _world_ to me!"

She hides her face.

His tears flow, but he pushes back the sobs that want to come. "We were such a good team!"

"We were."

"We would have made great cops. Great partners. I would have… one day… goddammit rabbit, I would have asked you to marry me!"

Nick clams up— if he goes any further he'll be reduced to a bawling puddle. Not how he prefers to die.

"I would have said yes."

He can tell that she's looking straight at him. No. Do _not_ look back.

"You taught me so much. You were always there when I needed backup. And I took it for granted, even though I appreciated… I liked… I loved you, too. Oh Nick, I still love you. I'll love you until we die."

Keep the distance. Pay no attention to that L word. Keep the distance or he'll totally be ruined.

"If we ever get out of here," says Judy, "I'll go far enough away from Zootopia that I can never, ever hurt you again."

He can't keep the distance any more.

"So you'll just leave? You won't even try to fix things? Are you content with being a crazed vigilante, rabbit? Are you content with the knowledge that this fox loves you but you won't even _try_ to earn his trust again? Just an attempt? Just that?"

"What do you think?"

"Hell if I know! Five minutes ago I thought you were my partner!"

"I was your partner!" Judy stands. "And you would have heard the truth from your partner's mouth if you hadn't gotten drunk! I _needed_ to be the one to tell you, and if you hadn't interrupted me we would've had this conversation in Caetano's instead of a makeshift dungeon! And _why_ were you drunk? I know why. Because you suspected that I had hurt you and you were too scared to deal with the consequences!"

"I was not scared!"

"Oh, that is a straight up lie, fox!"

"Well what do you want me to do about it?"

"Maybe not hide from the truth!"

"So stop drinking?"

"If that helps you avoid reality, then yes. Learn how to deal with life like a grown up mammal. At least you can _try_."

God, she's right.

"I… don't know. I don't know anything anymore."

The door to the wine cellar slides open and blinding light pours in. It's the warthog.

"Paws up!" He flashes the handgun back and forth at both of them. The door slams behind him with a loud latch. "Stand over the drain! I don't want a lot to clean up!"

This is really happening.

Nick and Judy scramble toward the floor drain next to one of the wine racks. The warthog walks down the metal stairs.

"Now kneel!"

This is it. They're about to shoot him. The end of Nick Wilde— he finally got outfoxed.

Well, it was bound to happen eventually. He always figured the chances of him dying execution-style were pretty high, and it turned out he was right.

Nick kneels on one side of the drain, Judy on the other. He cracks a smug grin. Even when you're being executed, you shouldn't let them see that they got to you.

Judy gasps.

He turns his head— wrong move. Her ears are flat, eyes bugged with terror, staring at him. "Oh no," she mouths. "You poor fox…" she whispers.

"You're wrong, Carrots. I told you I'm rich." The joke helps him return to his grin.

The warthog holds the handgun with the silencer to Nick's head.

Judy falls forward to the ground and sobs.

Nick's smile is gone. She's going to have to hear that gunshot and know...

He closes his eyes, feeling the metal of the gun barrel press deep into his fur.

"Hey." The warthog pulls the gun away. "What the _hell_ is Gondorff's Gambit, anyway?"

Nick opens his eyes and forgets to breathe. "What?"

"Gondorff's Gambit! That stupid roulette trick!"

Oh, that. That! The warthog is still being played! The hustle is _on_!

"I told you, buddy!" Nick lifts his head. "I have to show you! I can't explain it!"

Judy continues to sob.

"Okay! So show me! You've got like five minutes before the boss wonders what's up!"

"Sure, got it! Let me think…" Roulette. Roulette trick. What's roulette? Oh, the game with the wheel and the… okay.

"So let's say this wine bottle is the roulette wheel." Nick grabs a bottle from the shelf and places it on the floor. "And we'll pretend that there's a ball spinning around…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get that. What's the Gambit?"

Judy has stopped crying. Nick tries to look at her from his peripheral vision… is she crawling? He smells her going behind him. What the hell is she doing?

Don't think about her. Work on the con.

"The thing is, you have to watch the dealer's eyes. Most of the time he's looking at the wheel, but he also glances over to look at the board and make sure no one added any chips since he closed it to bets. That's called…"

"I know what it's called! What do you do?"

"Well…" Nick spins the bottle. It turns unevenly and stops.

"What do you do?"

"You uh, you have to pay attention to the spin. There's a point where the dealer will look away."

He spins the bottle again. The warthog kneels next to it. Nick sees his hoof over the trigger of the gun and his mind goes blank.

"And then what?"

"And then you…" His mouth hangs open. "When the dealer looks away, then you…"

"Where's this going, fox!"

 _Crash!_ The warthog collapses to the floor in a puddle of purple liquid. Behind him, Judy holds a broken wine bottle.

"Quick!" she mouths, glancing toward the ceiling and turning her ears in search of footsteps.

Nick runs up the metal stairs and presses the button to open the door. It doesn't move. Why do all the doors...

"His keycard!" whispers Judy, fishing it out of the warthog's pocket. She tosses it to Nick.

"Get the gun too!" he whispers loudly.

She grits her teeth as she pries it out of his hooves. She manages to free the grip and then holds it in her own paws. She exhales. The gun is a little large for a bunny.

Nick looks for a way to use the keycard… there's a pad to the right of the latch…

"Wait!" Judy runs up the stairs and hops in front of him. "I'll go first!"

"Why?"

"The one with the gun has to be first!"

"Fair point." He swipes the card across the pad and pushes on the latch. The door opens.

And they run.

They run down the hall past the dining room. Judy's ears twitch wildly— she points the gun wherever her ears turn. They round the bend into the living room and rush to the giant glass doors.

Nick holds the card to the pad… nothing. He holds it up again and jiggles the door latch. Still nothing.

"Thom must not trust Claude very much," whispers Judy.

"I wonder why..."

"Get down!" Judy's ears shoot up and she pushes Nick behind her. She spins around and gets into her shooting stance, aiming for the bend in the hall.

"What is it? I don't smell anyone…"

A bullet cracks the glass wall, and Nick jumps to the floor, covering his head.

The ocelot leans around the bend in the hall and fires. Nick covers his face as glass shards fly around him.

Judy falls to her ground position and returns fire, hitting the ocelot in the shoulder. He topples over.

She stands and looks at the shattered window. "Not so bulletproof after all. That liar."

Nick nods. "It's called a bluff, sweetheart."

She tugs on the door handle. "There's got to be a way…" Cringing, Judy rips off her furpiece and unfolds a titanium hook, jamming it between the lock and the door.

"Oh that's clever! Remind me to apologize for hitting you."

"Not the best time for jokes, Nick!" She adds another hook, and then another.

"That wasn't a joke." Nick catches a whiff of the stoat moving closer...

"No, not clever! You've got a gun, rabbit!" He grabs her paw holding the gun, and pulling the trigger with his other paw, he creates a circle of glass shards that causes an entire pane to collapse.

They leap through the broken window into the night.

"You just wasted bullets!"

They run down the driveway past the swimming pool, but the house and the grounds suddenly go dark— the stoat must have turned the lights off.

"You were gonna get us shot in the back!"

A bullet whizzes past Nick's ear. Judy spins around in confusion—

"Where did that coming from!" she whispers.

Oh God, she can't see in the dark!

Nick scans— the stoat kneels in front of the broken window.

"Got him! Gimme!"

Judy hands him the gun by the barrel.

Nick points the gun in the direction of the stoat and fires, but the bullet goes nowhere near him. This is a lot harder than playing first person shooters...

A bullet grazes Nick's cheek, taking fur with it. He yelps.

"Close one eye and use the sights!" screams Judy, crouched behind him.

Nick does, unloading the rest of the cartridge toward the stoat. He exhales, shaking:

The stoat looks to be crawling across the front stoop.

"I think he's down?" says Nick.

"No time to find out!" Judy springs out from behind him and they run down the long driveway.

"Where are the police!" she huffs.

"Had to make a donut run!"

"You still have that phone?"

"Uh huh!"

"Well then call them!"

Nick pulls out George Catlan's phone and dials 9-1-1. "What's your emergency?" says the operator.

"We've got mammals shot here!" Nick yells. "Send help right away!"

No less than ten ZPD vehicles speed up the driveway in a line, turning on their lights as they approach the crest of the hill.

"Damn, you guys are good! Catch you later!" Nick ends the call.

The lead patrol car slams on its brakes and turns on a floodlight. "Put your paws up!" comes a voice from a loudspeaker.

Nick and Judy freeze, squinting their eyes.

* * *

A pig EMT loads Thom Coates and Salvador into the back of an ambulance. "My client is completely innocent!" shouts a suited wolverine to a tigress ZPD officer. "Your evidence is clearly fabricated and intended to besmirch a spotless reputation! I demand these charges be dropped at once!"

The officer folds her limbs, unimpressed. "Sorry, buddy. You'll have to take that up with the prosecutor."

"Don't you know who my client _is_?" The wolverine stands on his tiptoes and leans into the officer's uniform.

"Yep. He allegedly masterminded a plot against Zootopia."

The wolverine snorts. "Your allegations are false! I'm taking your badge number! We're suing you for slander!"

The EMT closes the doors to the ambulance, and the wolverine jumps on the deck and yanks on the handle. "What are you doing to him! What medications are you giving him! I demand to be present!"

The ambulance drives off with the wolverine pounding on the back window.

* * *

Claude sits alone in the back of a patrol car, cuffed, staring off into space. Blue and red lights flash around Coates' estate, lighting up the darkened house and swimming pool.

Nick sits on the edge of the pool, holding an icepack over his skinned fur. With his pant legs rolled up, he kicks his feet back and forth and watches the ripples cross the water.

 _I don't know if I can forgive you. I want to. I want to more than anything. But if you're going to be the same Judy that went solo, that went rogue... What will stop you from going rogue again?_

"Mr. Wilde?" A lupine officer taps him on the shoulder. "The Chief wants you to give a statement at Headquarters."

Nick looks up. "An interrogation?"

"No, just a formal statement."

He pushes himself out of the pool and shakes his feet off.

"Oh yeah. Sorry about this." The wolf slips cuffs around Nick's wrists.

"Wha... I thought you said no interrogation!"

"Nah, not for this case. You're under arrest for public intoxication and defrauding an innkeeper."

His jaw drops. "Defrauding an _innkeeper_?"

"Hey, I uphold the law, I don't write it."

"But what does that even mean?"

The wolf leads him back to the driveway where the line of vehicles flash. "Yesterday evening you were observed being very drunk at Caetano's restaurant. You also pulled a dine and dash."

"Ah, so that's what that's really called."

"Yep."

"Huh. Never managed to be charged with that one before."

* * *

Judy and Chief Bogo face each other at the end of the driveway. Both stare at the ground. Behind them, the CSI team takes photos of broken glass and catalogs the bullet holes in the wall.

"There are so many things I want to say to you, Hopps." Bogo puts his hooves in his pockets. "I'm afraid they'll come out all muddled if I try to say them at once."

"I'm sorry, Chief."

He closes his eyes. "Don't incriminate yourself further."

"I'm ready to accept whatever you and the courts want to do with me. Believe me. I'm done being a vigilante."

Bogo nods. "I believe you." He takes a small pair of cuffs from his case and kneels. "Judy Hopps… you're under arrest."

She holds out her wrists, and Bogo clicks the cuffs shut. "I don't think I need to read you your rights." He blinks back tears.

"No."

They walk toward the ZPD vehicles. "Do you have a lawyer in mind?"

"I'll take anyone you recommend."

The wolf and Nick head in front of them, about to cross their path. "May I say something to Nick?" says Judy.

"You may. Briefly."

Bogo flags the wolf officer, and he leads Nick by the cuffs until he faces Judy. Nick turns his head to the side...

"Nick."

He looks into those huge, beautiful purple eyes. The red and blue lights flash against the face with the softest fur in the world.

"Nick. I'll try." She gulps. Her eyes fill with tears. "I mean it. I'll try."

He closes his eyes. Oh, bunny. Maybe he'll regret saying this. It's not going to be easy. But...

"I'll try too, Carrots."

She lowers her head until she can brush her forehead against his chest. It's so warm...

"Alright, we have to go." Bogo drags Judy away, leading her to a squad car, and the wolf pulls Nick in another direction.

He glances over his shoulder: she's looking back at him as Bogo closes the door to the car.

 _We'll try. We will._


	15. Epilogue

**ABOUT SIX MONTHS LATER**

Nick gets on the outbound 22, the express line to the Meadowlands. Across the bus, a swamp rabbit couple rocks their baby in a carrier and stares.

"Excuse me," says the father, "Aren't you the fox that worked with Judy Hopps?"

He looks up with a gentle grin. "I might be."

"It's Nick Wilde!" A young doe bunny gasps, rushing in from the back of the bus. "Oh my gosh it is! Can I take a photo with you?"

The eyes of the bus lock in on Nick.

"Go right ahead."

For the next fifteen minutes, Nick poses for ten photos, gives out seven hugs, and fields several dozen questions:

"You two were the ones who exposed Lionheart, weren't you?"

"Were we the duo that exposed Lionheart, Bellwether, _and_ Coates? Yes. Yes we were."

"Did you ever get scared?"

"Was it dangerous? Yes. Yes it was."

"What was it like believing you killed Judy Hopps?"

Nick shrugs. There's no way he'll attempt to answer that one on a city bus. Not even with another question.

The bus slows down for his stop.

"It's been great talking to all you lovely folks." Nick flips on his shades and pushes his way through the crowd. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some important business to attend to. See you later!"

"Nick!" A male elk calls after him. "I'd love to write your story. Can I buy the rights? Name your price!"

"If you're serious, DM me on Critter!" Nick climbs down the stairs to the curb. "WildeCard85!"

"Will do!"

The bus drives off, and Nick adjusts his tie. Damn, being a celebrity is fun. It will get old after a while, and it's certainly made hustling impossible— you can't scam anyone out of a Jumbo Pop or a fake car repair when your face is known throughout Zootopia. On the plus side, he's gotten free rides, free meals, and even an endorsement deal with a bulletproof vest company. Life has been good. Except...

Nick crosses the street and heads toward a generic strip mall that has seen better days. He strolls past the dollar store, the rent-to-own store, the off-brand cell phone store, and almost misses his destination: Cannady Investigative and Security Services.

It's a blacked out storefront with a tiny sign. "Please Ring Bell," requests the handwritten note. Nick does.

A coyote in a black tactical outfit answers the door. Jeez, really? It always seems to be coyotes.

"You're Nick, right?"

"I'm probably the only fox invited, so yes. I'm Nick."

"Marcus Astutez." The coyote extends his paw and delivers a bone crushing shake. "Hopps has told us all about you."

"Good things, I hope."

Astutez slams the door shut behind them. "Very good things."

The chairs and tables of the office have been pushed aside to create an open space for a party. Wolves, coyotes, dholes, jackals (and a badger couple) mill around with drinks in their paws. "WELCOME, JUDY HOPPS!" proclaims the banner strung across the back of the room.

"Can I get you a drink?" Astutez heads to a cooler.

"Cub soda, thanks."

He tosses the bottle to Nick. "Make yourself at home. You need anything, just ask."

Nick pops the top and takes a sip. That was probably the most civilized interaction he's ever had with a coyote. You've got a good crew, Carrots.

She's there, hidden by all those tall bodies. He can smell her for sure. She probably's too distracted by wolf scent to smell him, and she's probably too focused on her conversation to notice his footsteps coming closer. Strange how you can be so close to someone with them realizing it.

Okay, he's waited long enough. He's going in.

Nick pushes into the crowd, following the scent. There she is— chatting with a white wolf, wearing a kevlar tactical suit. Just like the old days, except the suit is all black. No ZPD badge.

Her ears perk up— she's heard his footsteps. Judy turns fast:

"Nick! Oh my goodness, you made it!"

"Couldn't miss something this big!"

She gives him a polite hug. "Nick, do you remember Gary?"

The white wolf waves his paw. Nick waves back tepidly.

"From the sanatorium? He almost caught you on the bridge, remember?"

"Until she howled!" Gary laughs. "Hopps is a smart one. I'm really pumped that she's working for us!"

"I'm glad I'm working here, too!" Judy pats Gary's thigh, and in turn he pats her back.

Good God, what if they're a couple… no, she wouldn't have told you that over text. Hinted, at the least.

"Carrots, can we… talk alone?"

"Um…" Judy looks around. "Sure! But we'll have to be quick. A lot of mammals want to say hello."

She points the way to a back office which doubles as a mail room. "J. HOPPS" already has papers in her box. She shuts the door.

"Nick, I'm… shocked, honestly. I didn't think you'd come! I would have… I don't know, been more prepared!"

"Prepared for what?"

"I mean… it's been so long! You haven't… well… I stopped texting because you stopped writing back!"

"I took a break." He scratches his head. "After all, it was a big deal, and…"

She touches his paw. "It was."

He exhales. That bunny fur… He had thought of ten thousand things to say to her this morning. None of them come to mind.

"You don't have to be here if you don't want to." Judy holds tight to his paw. "And you don't have to see me out of a sense of _obligation_. You don't owe me…"

"I wanted to be here, Carrots. Really." He clasps his other paw around hers. "We haven't been this close since the cellar on Moleholland Drive."

"And in court."

"Court doesn't count!" He smiles. "If I tried to hold your paw, the bailiff would have tackled me in seconds."

She chuckles politely. "Thank you again for testifying at that hearing."

Nick rolls his eyes. "If anything, I probably _hurt_ your case. Foxes aren't exactly great character witnesses."

"But you went on public record to say that my intentions were good. You didn't have to do that."

He shrugs.

"It hardly mattered in the end— my plea bargain went through, as you probably guessed."

"You mean this isn't your prison uniform?"

"Six months house arrest, five years probation with this thingie tracking my every move." Judy lifts her ankle to show an electronic bracelet underneath her kevlar. "Monthly check-ins with a parole officer."

"Oh, those guys are _fun._ I was always such a saint when they came over. 'Yes, sir, I've been a good little fox. Looking for a job, sir. See all these fake job applications, sir.'"

"My parole officer is a skunk who just graduated college. She's a little starstruck."

"Can't blame her." He lets go of her paw and leans against the wall. "So how did you manage to get hired at a security company with a conviction?"

She shrugs. "Celebrity goes a long way."

"It does."

"Apparently we're heroes, Nick."

"I hope not. Wouldn't that be terrible."

"Why?"

"We'd have to be perfect."

"Well, we aren't." Judy looks into space, deep in thought. "This wasn't what I had in mind when I came to Zootopia," she whispers.

"Hey, a rent-a-cop's better than being a not-a-cop. Will the ZPD ever hire you back?"

"Not without a pardon."

"Eh, you'll get one eventually."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you're _cute_."

Judy rolls her eyes and Nick chuckles.

"You said that just to annoy me!"

"Uh huh!"

"You dumb fox!"

She punches him playfully, and for a moment, he's returned to those wonderful moments of following the Night Howlers together.

"I'm quite proud to be dumb, Carrots."

"What about your charges? How did they end up?"

And now back to reality.

"I paid a fine for the dine and dash. The drunkenness wasn't exactly my first offense, so they gave me a little something called court ordered rehab."

"What's that like?"

"Like dying. Minus the fun parts."

"You still doing it?"

He nods.

Judy takes his paw again and looks into his eyes...

No, it's still too much. He lets go. "Did you hear about Coates' appeal?"

"Uh huh. Denied!"

"Of course. Hope he likes his life sentence."

"I hope he rots in hell."

"Ooh, strong language for a little bunny! Did they ever find out who I… you know."

Judy sighs. "Yeah, they did. She was a runaway. Apparently his thugs found her on the streets, OD'ing. He gave me her identity while I was staying with him. Poor little thing."

"Poor thing is right. How's your family?"

"Doing fine. Better than you'd expect. They never believed I was really dead!"

" _Really_?"

"They _insisted_ I was working undercover for the ZPD on a top secret mission and my death was a hoax to throw off the bad guys. Even refused to have a funeral! They thought my partner killing me was too convenient. Turned out they were kinda right."

"So maybe denying reality is a good thing?"

"A stopped watch is right twice a day." Judy steps back. "Nick. Why did you wait so long to get in touch with me? We could have Muzzletimed when I was under house arrest. I would have loved to see your face!"

"Are you sure? _This_ face?"

"There's only one Nick Wilde in Zootopia." Judy struggles to hold back a grin. "You know I… missed you. And I hoped you weren't staying away because..." She bites her lip. "I really am trying, you know. I stuck to the rules of my sentence and the probation. No more rogue bunny. Never again."

 _That's good to hear, Carrots. I missed you too. But I needed that time apart. You got close to me in the best and worst ways, and if I pretended you didn't cause me a tremendous amount of pain and anger, I'd be back to denying the truth. And that's how_ I'm _trying— I'm learning how to face it._

"I don't really know why I stayed away."

 _You're lying._

"You do know." She points. "I know you know."

"How do you know I know I know?"

"Because someone like you doesn't go silent unless they have a good reason."

 _Damn it, bunny. You don't miss a beat._

"Okay. I had to dry out. And... I was scared that when I saw you again, I'd feel the urge to drink."

She looks up at him, eyes wide with concern. "Do you?"

 _Tell the truth._

"A little."

"Are you going to?"

 _Am I? There's a cooler full of beers out there._

"Nah."

She grabs him and presses her face to his chest. "I'm _very_ proud of you."

 _Too close, too close..._

Nick slips out of her embrace. "Ugh, God! You keep talking like that and you'll force me to drink!"

Judy steps to the back of the room, horrified.

"That was a joke, Carrots."

She exhales loudly: "Oh thank goodness! If I get out of line, just call me on it. Please. I don't want to make you feel like... "

"Of course not..."

"It's not that I'm trying to hurt you— it's just that I don't know when to quit!"

"I'm quite aware."

They stare at the floor.

"Seriously, though," says Nick. "It's great to see you again."

"It's great to see you, too."

The stare at the floor until the silence becomes painful.

"I should go back." Judy puts her paw on the door handle. "My team members will wonder what happened. They're completely fascinated with me, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"They can't believe Cannady actually hired a bunny."

"Doesn't that sound familiar."

"You bet. I'm going to be pairing with wolves, mostly."

"So how's your howl these days? Still convincing?"

"Yeah, it's still good..." Judy looks at him as though she remembered the most wonderful thing in the world. "But I would… you know, prefer working with a mammal... more my own size."

 _Do you mean it, Carrots? Partnering with you every day, just like we would have at the ZPD? Just like we did catching Lionheart, following Bellwether, escaping from Coates..._

It would never be like the past, since nothing can erase what happened. But that would be the best possible reset button. A second chance at a career together. A partnership!

Nick does his best poker face to hide his excitement. "Huh. Sure. Why not."

"Oh, yes!" Judy attacks him with a hug that sends the air from his lungs. She runs to her slot in the mail sorter. "I'm so glad you said yes, because I filled out an application for you, just in case you showed up…"

She thrusts a piece of paper in his face: there are his name, address, and the skills he listed on the ZPD application so long ago.

Nick blinks. "You did this just for me?"

"If you want. No pressure. It looks like pressure, but really, no pressure!"

He grins. "Carrots, are you trying to _manipulate_ me?"

"Oh heavens no!" Her eyes bug out, and she snatches the paper away from him. "No, I'll never do that again! No fake investigations, nothing like that!"

"Sure. You know what I think? I think you're a _rogue_ bunny." Nick gives an obvious wink, and Judy nods with understanding. "But you know what?" He leans into her face. "I _like_ rogue bunnies."

"Oh, you do?" Judy backs into the mail sorting table.

"Do you like working with sly foxes, Carrots?" He grabs her by her waist and lifts her up. "Because I'm afraid I'll never stop being your sly fox."

"Is that so, Slick?" She grins and embraces his neck. "I don't think you're quite sly enough for a _rogue bunny_."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Is it? Yes. Yes it is."

"Okay, Fluff." He presses his face closer. "Let me show you some proof…"

The door to the mail room opens— Astutez startles and backs out. "Crap. Sorry, didn't see anything."

The door slams and Nick and Judy look down at their compromising position. They burst into laughter.

"Oh sweet cheese and crackers!" Judy wipes away tears. "It feels so good to _laugh_!"

"Doesn't it!" Nick lets her down.

"That's the only way we'll move on, I think. We'll have to find the humor where we can."

"I think we're already off to a good start. Oh, come here, bunny..."

He draws her in for a hug, and Judy jumps up to kiss him on the cheek.

 _That's fine. Just let it happen. You can trust her. You can trust yourself._

"Come on!" Judy drags him to the door by his tie. "Let's meet your new team!"

"Wait a second, I'm already hired? Without a background check?"

She hurries him out into the reception.


End file.
